


It's Hard to Say 'I Do' When I Don't

by victorygirl723



Series: the 'folie' between two [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Music RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Eating Disorders, M/M, Panic Attacks, Relapsing, Slow Build, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:06:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorygirl723/pseuds/victorygirl723
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's nine years after Fall Out Boy was formed and now the band is on hiatus. Patrick's started his solo career, Pete created his own side band and Andy and Joe made their own too. A lot can change in nine years, but old habits die hard. Pete and Patrick begin reconnecting and rediscover their lingering feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own the title, characters, or lyrics (obviously). My writing style was inspired by Gray by Pete Wentz.

You ever have one of those days where you sit down and think about how much time has passed? Where suddenly you realize almost ten years have passed and you wonder where your life has gone? That happened to me. Yes, the expression a lot can change in that amount of time but a shit load has happened in that period. Love, heartbreak, marriage, birth, divorce, disparity, confusion, panic, disorientation. That about sums up the past nine years. They say as you grow up you figure out everything and things start to set into place. That is as untrue as it gets. 32 years old and I still don’t have all the answers. I still haven’t figured shit out. I like to think I have gotten better at it though. 

Let me explain what has happened in the past couple of years. It’s a bit of a blur considering the fact that everything exploded and I’m still left in the aftermath, confused and fazed. We put out our fourth album two years ago and it did not do well. At all. Which I have to admit kinda really sucked. It took us off of the ‘unstoppable cloud’ we were on. Tensions had been rising between each of us and as much as I love the other guys, we figured we needed to take a break from each other. Focus on other aspects and regroup in a couple months. Well, a couple months turned into an undetermined amount of time. We all went in different musical directions (while none of us have had much success) and now we’re here. I’m confused and not really sure what I want to do and the last couple years have certainly not been treating me exactly well.

I got married. Yep. Not to Patrick, of course. (I’ll explain later). Ash and I were really fucking happy together. We were each others rocks. We even had a son. Bronx. And boy did that make me happy. It gave my life a bit more purpose. Unfortunately, things don’t always work out the way that you plan them. Ash and I ended up getting a divorce. We were fighting all the time and it just…it wasn’t good for us. We were both stressed and as much as it fucking sucks, people fall out of love. Which leads me to Patrick.

After we put out the first record, we told Joe and Andy about us. They weren’t really surprised by it. They had seen it coming. Joe was a bit weirded out by it but he got over it fast. Patrick’s parents were super chill about it. As uncomfortable as I was sitting in front of them watching Patrick tell them, they are really nice people. My parents on the other hand did not take it well. I don’t really want to go into it anymore than that. Let’s say it didn’t end well and we didn’t speak for a good couple months. 

We dated for a good two years until we recorded From Under the Cork Tree. The band exploded and Patrick got really self-conscious about himself. I relapsed with my depression, again don’t really want to go into it, and everything kind of fell apart. As much as we needed each other, we figured it’d be better if we were just friends. It hurt, but we recovered after a while. Everything was good up until Folie. And the band split and now we’re here. And I’m fucking confused.

I miss them all. I don’t have anything. And as much as I’d love to sit back and tell myself that I need to take a break from dating and everything and that I shouldn’t rely on other people, I don’t. I need someone. I’m still heartbroken and wounded from the divorce. I really loved Ash. I really did. But now she’s gone and my friends aren’t here and it sucks. I don’t really have anyone to lean on besides my new bandmates at the moment which is rough. But I’m okay. I think.

I do really want to reconnect with all of the boys. We talk occasionally. Not as much as we used to. And with social media and shit now it should be easier and give us and excuse to communicate more right? Nope. We found excuses to be busy or not be available. And when we were able to talk, it seemed awkward and unfamiliar. People always talk about falling back into the rhythm with their friends after a very long time. I wish that was the case for us. Even with Patrick the conversations seem distant and forced. I understand he’s been busy with touring and he just put out an album and everything. Just a phone call or email every once in a while wouldn’t hurt.

I’m getting butt hurt over nothing. I know. Taking things too personally. I just wish things could be the way they used to be. 

Anyway, fast forward to now.

I was heading out of my apartment to meet Bebe and the guys in the studio. We were doing some demos today. We were considering releasing an EP but who knows what direction we’re going in. It was cloudy in LA today and the smog was especially thick. Great. I walked to my car and drove to the studio. I got stuck in traffic, per usual. I was listening to the radio to drone out the annoying sounds of honking and the murmur of people’s engines. It’s times like these when I think about the fact that I’m not in Chicago anymore. The world is a big place and home seems really far away when the place you’re living in isn’t really home. Sure, my stuff is here and all my friends live here. Is my heart here? No fucking way. 

I begin to daydream about being home in Chicago. Feeling that blustery wind that Chicago is oh so famous for. I picture myself walking down the Michigan Avenue and looking up at all the skyscrapers that tower over me. I’m living in a world full of giants. Occasionally, my mind flips to old memories of Patrick and I sitting out by the lake and throwing stones into it. I smile to myself and remember how the sun used to strike his face. I remember pushing his sandy, blonde hair off of his forehead and stroking his cheek. Him looking down and talking about how self-conscious he was and me trying to reassure him that he doesn’t need to be. Which, unfortunately, brings back memories of him calling me to come help him. His relapses. Me holding him in my arms while he shakes and sobs. I can never forget how he used to tremble in my arms. Those deep and hollow breaths that he never seemed to recover. I don’t know how he ever learned to breathe again.

I shake those memories away from me although I know I can never rid myself of them. I didn’t need to be depressed while I was in the studio. Also, Bebe was especially good at reading me and she would know something was up if I wandered in unfocused. She was also good at drawing out what was bothering me, which I mean is both good and bad. I wasn’t up for thinking about Patrick anymore. It was making me sad and opening this unhealed wound that I didn’t want to tear open. So, I turned up the radio and started to focus on traffic instead of old feelings.

I eventually got to the studio and it ended up being a bust. We really didn’t end up doing anything. We started strumming out a potential song that we didn’t have lyrics to which led to a dead end. Then, we started brainstorming some ideas for lyrics which also didn’t work out. Usually I’m the one throwing out lyrics, like I did in Fall Out Boy, but lately, I haven’t been all that inspired which hasn't helped with the whole ‘creative process’ thing. Call it writer’s block, I guess, but I hardly consider myself a writer. Anyhow, after all of that, we all decided to call it a day and regroup later this week. This was making me feel especially unproductive considering the fact that this was suppose to be my new ‘creative outlet’ and something to distract me. All this was doing was giving me unnecessary stress.

I got back in my car and drove to a nearby Chinese place to grab some takeout. While I was waiting to pick up my order, Joe called me and we ended up talking for ten minutes until he had to go. It was good to catch up with him. He talked about his and Andy’s band and how they were doing briefly before telling me some funny story about the guys getting drunk one night and then telling me that he was engaged. I congratulated him and laughed along to the story before I heard Andy yelling for him in the background. He said goodbye and then hung up. I was smiling as I hung up the phone. I was happy to hear from Joe. I hadn’t heard from him in a while and it was nice to hear the good old Trohman humor that I was used to. I figured I should call Andy later that week and catch up with him as well. Maybe I could get together with them if they weren’t busy. I knew I certainly wasn’t.

I grabbed my food and went back to my apartment. I walked in and turned on the lights. The ones in the living room turned on and then suddenly shut off. I sighed and set down the food before going to grab a lightbulb from the closet. I pushed on my answering machine to check for some messages. I had one. It was my manager for the Black Cards.

_Hey Pete. Just calling to check in about the plan here. Are we doing an album or…what’s going on? Just want to know for publicity sake. Let me know please. Alright, well, have a good night and call me when you can. Thanks._

I would tell you what the plan was if I actually had a clue about what the plan was. But, none of us really know. I was getting this horrible feeling that this band was going absolutely no where and that I was going to be stuck projectless in a couple months. I sighed as I grabbed a stool from the kitchen and climbed on it to replace the bulb. 

What am I going to do? Like, there is actually a distinct possibility that this band is going to break. Focus on family? What family? Besides Bronx, I really don’t have any family out here. Go back to Chicago? Yeah right. Not happening with this whole binding apartment and shit. Why does life have to be so damn complicated? 


	2. Chapter 2

I stepped off the stool and sat down on my couch with my Chinese food. I began picking through the chicken fried rice. _Patrick’s favorite_ , I thought. I smiled. I picked up my phone and texted Andy and Joe about getting lunch with them sometime later this week. Part of me wanted to call Patrick and hear his voice. I hadn’t talked to him in at least a month. That’s a decent amount of time right? I decided to text him. Less needy. I sent him a picture of the take out box.

_Fried rice. Your favorite._

I awaited his response. I knew he might be busy with whatever so I flipped on the TV and tried to take my mind off of it. About twenty minutes later, he responded.

_Looks good. I could use some fried rice about now. Warming up for a show right now though so bad timing to be hungry._

He was performing tonight. Look at him getting his life together. I wish I was having some sort of success like him. Well, to be honest, I wasn’t sure how successful his album was at the moment but at least he was done putting it out and now was the fun part. Touring and shit. And he got to hang out with the Panic! guys which is always a fun time.

_Oh nice. What city?_

Knowing my chances, it wouldn’t be in LA.

_Detroit. I can taste Chicago from here._

I smiled.

_What I’d do be back in Chicago right now._

He responded immediately.

_Me too man._

I knew it was a risky move to be taking but we had been friends forever. I didn’t care if it made me look needy.

_I miss you dude. When you’re in LA next, we should hang._

I sat there nervously awaiting his response.  


_Miss you too. I agree. I think I’ll be there in a couple weeks if I’m correct. I’ll let you know. Save some fried rice for me._

This made me laugh. The conversation wasn't perfect, but it had felt the most natural out of everything I had texted or called him about in months.

_Will do._

Old habits die hard. After that texting conversation, I put on Patrick’s new record. I listened to ‘Soul Punk’ on YouTube and ended up getting so fucking high and horny off of everything. I heard Dance Miserable and Patrick’s riffs and shouts and I got pushed over the edge. Classy me, I ended up jacking off on my couch while listening to that song. I imagined I was pushing Patrick up against a wall and kissing his neck roughly. He was making these moans and grunts that were just so fucking erotic. We ended up in bed quickly and I ended up fucking him and he cried out those riffs from the song. I was sweating and I imagined myself pressed up against him gasping in his ears, begging him to sing me something or moan a little more so I could indulge for a few seconds longer. The hallucination, however, died along with my boner. I lied on my couch blinking away the blurriness. My brain was taunting me by replaying past sighs and other noises Patrick had moaned into my ear during sex. I shut my eyes to try and focus on my breathing. The taunts went away and I was back to reality. I was a bit sad that I couldn’t hear his voice anymore. It made me feel less lonely. It didn’t matter anyway how much I wanted him. He had a new girlfriend that lived back in Chicago with him. She made him happy. That’s all I want for him but sometimes I wish that I’d be the one making him happy. I sound like my teenage self again. 

On top of all the fighting, Ash left because I was way too needy. She used to complain all the time that I needed affection from her all the time and I was like a puppy. I followed her around and stayed by her side whenever we were together. But, this didn’t mean I was open with her. I mean, I was about some stuff. Just getting into the deep issues like my depression and stuff is hard. And she understood that. She got frustrated sometimes though. She was like my parents. She didn’t fully understand how to deal with me. Of course, Patrick didn’t always either but he was the closest thing I got to perfect. 

My therapist likes to say that I wasn’t ready for a relationship but he’s mostly started saying not everything works out. Not like I believe in all this therapy crap anyway as I’ve said a million times. But, talking to someone does occasionally make me feel better. Does it make me more likely to listen to any advice he gives me? Not a chance.

I was ready for a relationship. I was so ready. I was at the ‘prime’ age that psychologists and every other fucking person says is the right age to jump into a relationship. I hadn’t relapsed, the band was stable. I was stable. We did everything right. It just…wasn’t meant to be. And the more I think about it, I think that when I got the feeling she was unhappy, I got scared and jumped into little boy mode to try and cling to her and fix everything. Which was exactly the opposite she wanted. That made her more upset and it just…we couldn’t. We fell and crashed hard. She started to pick up the pieces by filing for divorce and I laid there hoping something could fix us when it couldn’t. I stayed there for a good couple weeks. Only a couple months ago did I get up and start climbing back up. And if I fall for Patrick again, I’m going to fall all the way back down.

After I realized I had been lying half naked on my couch for a half hour, I got up and showered and went to bed. I lied in my bed staring at the ceiling. I looked over at the other side of my bed. Empty. I could still see Ash standing up in my t-shirt giggling as she walked into the bathroom. I could also see Patrick rolling over to squint and smile at me as he woke up. Neither of them had been to this apartment, but every empty bed seems like a bed that had been full at one point. 

I relived too many memories in that endless time between when I lied down and when I fell asleep. My stomach was in this huge knot that was twisting itself tighter and tighter. I eventually stopped noticing the tensing in my chest and began to fall into sleep. I slept peacefully until I got woken up at 5 by a helicopter. I groaned as I pulled a pillow over my face. I knew my brain was not going to let me fall back asleep. The sun had started peeking its' head out in the horizon. The day was ready to start, even if I wasn’t.


	3. Chapter 3

Today was more boring than yesterday. I didn’t have to go to the studio because God knows what we’re doing. I went grocery shopping and wandered around a park nearby the apartment. Joe and Andy agreed to having lunch sometime next week. While I was walking back home with my groceries, Patrick texted me a video of Brendon doing a backflip and almost slipping and falling. I made a loud, “Whoa!” that caused some people walking by to stare at me.

_Holy shit that was close. Better tell Bden to be careful. Panic! can’t be a one man band._

He responded quickly.

_I said the same thing. Tour gets done in a week. I’m gonna miss these guys. I was wrong about the LA date. Forgot it already happened. But, I’ll be back in a couple days to get some stuff from my place to bring back to Chicago._

How much would I kill to be back in Chicago with him? He was so damn lucky that he had a place there and here. It did suck that he had to pay rent on both. Both places were not cheap. Whatever, when he was here, we were going to hang out. We just wouldn’t mention my whole ‘Soul Punk’ experience. I’d tell him I’d listened to it. No other dirty details.

_You can drop by my place whenever. Don’t have any plans so feel free to just come on by if you have a chance._

I know I was being kind of direct. I just really, fucking, missed him.

_Haha, I’ll let you know before I do. But thanks man. I’d love to hear Black Cards play if I could._

Don’t bring them up. They’re irrelevant.

_Then you’d have to perform some Soul Punk in front of me. In Spanish._

I could tell he was probably laughing or hyperventilating.

_No pressure or anything._

I laughed.

_I’m kidding. But I would like to hear some if you’d be up for it._

He knows how much I love to hear him sing. It’s my heroin. I can never get enough.

_Wouldn’t you like that?_

Fucker.

_Harsh. I’ll be sure to forget your birthday this year._

To play dirty you have to be dirty.

_Haha, kidding. Sure. Whichever one you want. Just don’t Simon Cowell me if I fuck it up in front of you._

I smiled.

_I’ll be your Paula Abdul._

That week could not have gone any slower. I only got into the studio one other time that week. We did get some stuff accomplished. They had come up with some more lyrics that weren’t terrible so we threw them in and got a chorus down for something. What? We weren’t sure, but it was something. The rest of the days I spent doing whatever would keep my busy. Laundry, shopping, walking, listening to Soul Punk on repeat. I wasn’t desperate. I just wanted him to feel good about the record. It was good, really good. I was so fucking impressed that he played everything and created everything that went onto that piece of work. He didn’t need us. He had more musical talent in one finger than I did in my whole body. Just shows who calls the shots. Well, who did call the shots. Which is what people outside of the band thought. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t the Patrick show, it was the Pete and Patrick show. I wrote, he composed. Joe and Andy occasionally threw in their opinion. I think that’s why Joe got so frustrated. He was never really asked and it got to a point where it wasn’t working anymore. I can understand. I’d probably have gotten pissed off too if I was in his shoes. I hope Joe and Andy are happier now though that they have a bit more control over their own group. I just hope Joe’s not still horribly pissed at me. Sure, he was okay on the phone a couple of days ago, but I could feel something still brewing beneath the layers of Joe Trohman. Did I ever want to see what? No, I was good with going my whole life without seeing Joe ever really blow up at me. Although, I think I’ve been pretty close to seeing him almost lose it.

Fighting with the guys is one of the hardest things to do. I love each of them to bits. It’s true. But obviously you can’t get along with everyone forever. You’re going to have days when you get on each others nerves and can’t stand one another. Folie seemed to highlight our problems. On top of being unsuccessful, unrooting everyone’s wants and issues with everything was a whole different story. Joe and Andy got frustrated with the sound we were putting out. I suppose I did too. It was a lot different than what we had been in the past and it didn’t sound like what I wanted the band to sound like. Of course, we should have seen Patrick trying to experiment and get out of his comfort zone coming considering the fact he basically had complete control over the whole composing thing. It doesn’t matter now. We’ve taken our break. Even though I’m not any happier, I hope the other guys are.


	4. Chapter 4

Two days later, I went out for a jog. I wasn’t really sure why I was trying to exercise when I’m not much of a running guy. Something in me just told me to run. When I returned back to my apartment, I saw a familiar short, blonde dude sitting at the call box trying to buzz in. I immediately smiled and ran up to him. I grabbed him from behind and wrapped my arms around him. I heard him let out a laugh.  
“Well this certainly is an interesting way to get greeted. I was expecting to get hugged from the front,” he chuckled. He turned around and smiled at me.  
“I need a proper hug, if you please,” he said motioning. I grinned and hugged him. His embrace was warm and welcoming. He fit so perfectly in my arms. It felt so familiar. I’d done this a thousand times and this was no different than any other. I just felt, happy. I got those stupid butterflies that you get in front of your crush. _I’m such a teenager,_ I thought.  
“I missed you Trick,” I said into his shoulder. I felt him smile.  
“Missed you too,” he replied. I pulled back and saw his hair was a lot lighter than it usually was.  
“Did you bleach your hair?” I asked. He blushed.  
“Oh yeah…does it look bad?” He asked.  
“No, it looks great. Really. I just was surprised. Never thought you were the type of person to do that,” I said. He made a face.  
“I always used to talk about getting a lip ring or a nose ring back in the day. Guess I never really outgrew the urge to change my hair color,” he said. I chuckled.  
“I do remember when you wanted that lip ring. I offered to get one with you and you chickened out,” I remembered.  
“I did not! I just decided against it. It was too…punk,” he said. I laughed.  
“Too punk for Patrick Stump? No way. You leak punk. The hair, the album,” I pointed out. He rolled his eyes.  
“Totally. This is just a facade to cover up my nerdiness. I can’t let people know how uncool I am,” he said pressing a finger to his lips.  
“Hate to burst your bubble, but I think people have already figured that out,” I said. He laughed.  
“Damn, thought I had them,” he said snapping his fingers.  
“Don’t worry, you’re the coolest in my book,” I said. He smiled while rolling his eyes. 

I unlocked the door and we walked up to my apartment. He began looking around.  
“I’m gonna shower and change super quick since you kinda caught me when I’m ‘indecent’,” I said air-quoting indecent.  
“You did say ‘drop by whenever’,” he quoted. I took my sweaty t-shirt off and threw it at him. He moved back and made a face.  
“Jesus Christ, Pete that smells horrible,” he said turning his face away. I laughed and picked it up before walking into the bathroom. I showered and changed as quick as I could. I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin if I didn’t get out there quick enough. I pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt and splashed on a bit of cologne. _Who are you trying to impress? You know he has a girlfriend. You go this route and you’re making a bad decision…_ I’m not flirting…I like this cologne. Who says I can’t smell good in front of my friend? _Bad decisions…_

I walked out of my room and saw Patrick looking in an unpacked box.  
“What’re you looking at?” I asked. He turned around holding a Police album.  
“Didn’t get around to unpacking?” He asked. I shuffled my feet.  
“I’ve been kinda busy lately. Also, I listen to those vinyls so much, I figured I’d just keep them in the box so I could pull them out whenever,” I admitted. He smiled as he looked back in the box. I walked over and browsed with him.  
“I should get you a nice holder for these. Looks more classy than a cardboard box,” he said.  
“Hey, I think my box adds a certain element of classiness to this apartment. You just don’t have any taste,” I said. He laughed.  
“I’ll be sure to tell your mom that,” he said. I sighed. Didn’t really want to think about my mom at the moment. He pulled out Elvis Costello’s “My Aim Is True” and smiled.  
“I gave you this album,” he said running his fingers over the cover. I nodded.  
“I knew you weren’t a huge fan of him, but I thought I’d just get you the vinyl so you could do whatever with it. I remember we ended up listening to it the night I gave it to you,” he said thoughtfully. I remembered that night so well. My parents had kicked me out my house for the night and I ended up going to his house. My birthday was the next day. He gave me the album. We listened to it and made out the whole night. We also ended up fucking and that was the night I told him about my suicide attempt in college. It was such a memorable night. I had never been more intimate with anyone else.  
“It’s the best present I’ve ever gotten,” I said. He looked over at me and flicked his hand out.  
“Oh I doubt that…” he trailed off.  
“No, I’m serious. Maybe I didn’t appreciate it in that moment, but I really appreciate it now,” I said earnestly. To be honest, it was the only Elvis Costello album I’ve ever listened to. Mostly because of that night.  
“Well…I’m glad you liked it,” he said putting it back in the box. I could tell he was brushing me off a bit. He probably wanted to get off that night. He’s such an honest guy so no way he wanted to think about me when he had a girlfriend. If it was so easy for him to not think about me, why was it so fucking impossible for me not to think about him?

He was browsing when he laughed and pulled out an album. It was an Earth, Wind, and Fire album.  
“Oh man…that’s an oldie. Forgot I had that,” I said laughing.  
“Never took Pete Wentz to be a disco person,” he grinned. I shrugged.  
“I’m pretty sure my aunt gave me that when I was little and I’ve just never given it away. Not gonna lie, I listened to this album when I was like 8 for a whole year,” I admitted. He slapped his knee.  
“Wow…I have not seen most of your collection. I need to go through everything else and see what other embarrassing albums you have in here,” he teased.  
“Oh god, you’d probably find some gems,” I said. He laughed.  
“I’m just kidding. I loved Earth, Wind, and Fire for the longest time and I have a shit ton of weird albums in my collection. You’d tease me till the end of eternity if you saw some of the ones I have,” he said looking at his feet.  
“I guess it’s just one of those ‘on a whim’ buys,” I said. I looked through the box and pulled out Siamese Dream by Smashing Pumpkins. Patrick smiled when he saw it. I went over to my record player and put it on. Cherub Rock started playing and Patrick closed his eyes and started to hum. I smiled.  
“How many days did we spend listening to this album? Or just talking about them in general?” he asked.  
“Too many to count. I actually found a scratch on it that we probably made one of those many times. Took me ages to fix since I didn’t want to get a new one. Geek U.S.A might be a little fucked up when we come to it but it should be fine,” I said. He continued humming and sat down quietly. His head swayed along to the music. He began playing air guitar and started belting out the chorus. I laughed. I sat down next to him.  
“Go Billy, go!” I encouraged. He laughed and slapped my arm.  
“Shut up. I can dream,” he said.  
“You’re Patrick Stump. You don’t need to dream,” I said. He shrugged.  
“Still would be cooler to be Freddie Mercury or Prince or anyone else. That’s the dream,” he sighed.  
“Well, I’d say you’re getting close,” I said. He let out a forced laugh.  
“That’s funny,” he said.  
“I mean, you’ve got as much talent as they do. Look at your album. You wrote, composed, and produced the whole fucking thing. Everything. Done by you. Not many artists can say they’ve done that,” I said. He frowned a bit.  
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean shit when the album isn’t doing well,” he murmured. I furrowed my brows.  
“Wait…hold up,” I said.  
“Yeah. You heard me. It’s done bad. As in bad. Like only 15,000 copies have been sold,” he stated. I bit my lip.  
“Sometimes it takes a while for things to pick up,” I tried. He stared at me. Unfortunately, he was probably right. It was almost the end of the year and the album had been out for a good couple months. If things weren’t picking up now, they probably weren’t going to ever.  
“At least you have something out there. I’m sure once you do some more shows and stuff like that, you’ll get the popularity up. I mean, look at me. My band doesn’t even have shit to put out. No album, no nothing,” I said. Patrick looked at me uncertainly.  
“Don’t worry about it. I promise you, everything’ll work out,” I said encouragingly. He gave me a weak smile.  
“I hope,” he said. 

We sat there in silence for a moment just listening to the music. I’d occasionally hear Patrick softly sing parts and I’d smile when that happened.  
“You should play me some of your stuff,” I suggested. He straightened up.  
“Oh…no…I really…” he tried.  
“Oh come on Patrick. You’ve sung in front of me a million times and you’re scared now? After almost ten years of being friends and bandmates?” I said. He exhaled and smiled.  
“Okay, okay. I guess I can acoustic it. You have a guitar here, I assume?” he asked. I nodded and went to my room to grab one. I brought it back. He tuned it up a bit and then looked at me expectedly.  
“What?” I asked.  
“Do you have any requests?” he asked.  
“Oh sweet. My own personal juke box,” I said. He laughed.  
“Umm…no whatever you want. Surprise me,” I said. He smiled and began tapping his foot to set the beat. Him and that foot tap. He’d been doing that since the day I’d met him. Well you know what they say. Seasons change…

He started strumming out Run Dry. I could tell he was a bit nervous just sitting performing in front of me. He wasn’t focusing on it though. He got more comfortable as the song progressed. His voice got stronger and louder. I’m pretty sure I had the biggest grin on my face at that point. I wanted to clap my hands to the beat but I knew that would freak him out a bit. So, I refrained. He then smoothly transitioned into When I Made You Cry, ironically. That brought me back. Holy shit was I having this huge nostalgia attack to 2004. I never noticed how much he closed his eyes when he sang. Maybe it’s just because I’ve never really watched Patrick sing but man does he focus get into it. I suppose all singers get into their music but Patrick was just mesmerizing to watch. As much as he didn’t believe it, he was one of those people that was born to do music. Me? No. I just got lucky.

He finished the song and played the last chord. I clapped and he blushed and smiled while looking down at his feet.  
“Well, I’ve totally underestimated you as a musician…” I said. He giggled.  
“You like it? I mean I know it’s not really the style of music you listen to and it’s nothing like, well, the old stuff…” he trailed off.  
“It doesn’t matter. Shows you aren’t a one trick pony. Damn…that was…wow…” was all I could manage. He was smiling. I was glad he was happy. I needed to get him off that boat of self-consciousness.  
“Well, thanks. That means a lot,” he said lightly. I got up and kept thinking ‘wow’ in my head. _Teenager._ I went to take the record off the player. It had started skipping and had stopped. Another thing I need to fix. He set my guitar down and walked over to me. He looked concerned.  
“You okay?” he asked. I tried to nod convincingly.  
“Yeah. I’m good,” I said.  
“Pete…” he said turning to me. He looked at me earnestly. It was taking all of my willpower to not wrap my hands around his face and pull him in for a kiss. I knew I couldn’t. But desire was pulsating through my veins and making it very hard to see straight. I was under its’ spell and couldn’t get out. I tried to focus myself back on the conversation.  
“I…I…” I stuttered. He stood there waiting anxiously.  
“I just…you have everything figured out. I mean not like ‘figured out’ but like you have a direction. A plan. You put out two albums and you’re touring and everything and what do I have? I have a half-assed band who has put nothing out and is basically fucking around and not doing anything. I have not accomplished shit. All I’ve managed to do is get divorced and been forced to move to a new place,” I said. He didn’t say anything. I walked over to the window.  
“I just…I wish it was easy for me like it was for you,” I admitted. He looked at me sadly.  
“it’s been far from easy, but it’s nice of you to think that,” he said.  
“You know what I mean,” I said. He nodded. His phone rang and he checked it.  
“I have to go. Some meeting with my manager about whatever,” he said motioning to the door. I nodded.  
“I’ll call you when I’m done. Let’s me up later this week. Okay?” he asked.  
“Okay,” I said. I knew he probably wouldn’t call. He had been uber fucking busy since who knows when and God forbid he have a break when he got back from tour. The meeting was probably about how sales were not going well. He hugged me briefly and left the apartment. The hug wasn’t like the one when I saw him. It was forced and half-hearted. I needed the old Patrick back. Half of him was here. I could see. He was keeping half of himself under lock and key. I didn’t know why, but I needed to break him out.


	5. Chapter 5

I didn’t hear from him that night. Something probably came up. It didn’t matter anyway. I couldn’t be clingy. I wasn’t about to be an annoying ex-boyfriend or girlfriend that constantly called or bothered him. No matter how much I wanted to see or hear him. As much as I said I wasn’t clingy, however, doesn’t mean I’m not fucking desperate. I lied in bed, waiting for the phone to ring or buzz. I hoped he would call. I hoped I’d be back in 2005 when he’d call me before I went to bed and we’d talk until one of us fell asleep at two or three in the morning. We’d talk about whatever, mostly pointless stuff. Music, porn, sex, TV shows, whatever. Sometimes we’d get into those late night ‘what the fuck is life about’ conversations but that was mostly when one of us was exhausted, drunk, or stoned. I miss those conversations. I think I just miss the little quirks that I can remember. The way Patrick breathed into the phone when he talked. I could tell he was lying on his side. The way the he’d laugh quietly to not wake his mom, the way he said goodnight to me. He was lying parallel to me, just five miles away. 

I sat in bed and waited for sleep to come and take me. I remembered so many nights I used to lie sleepless. I was glad that they had become more infrequent but they still bothered me from time to time. This being one of those times. I sighed as I lied stilly. I glanced at my phone on the bedside table next to me. It was three thirty in the morning and I wasn’t thinking that straight. _Fuck it,_ I thought. I grabbed him and texted him.

_Do you remember those late night conversations we used to have?_

Not a chance he’d be up right now. I didn’t care. I decided to just leave him a bunch of texts until the morning.

_I don’t know why I remembered them, I just did._

_We talked about some pretty weird stuff._

_Some deep stuff too, just mostly random ass shit._

I laughed as I remembered one conversation.

_I remember you telling me about the first joint you smoked. You were so embarrassed. You told me how weird you were and how you almost broke your arm slipping down some stairs._

_I laughed but I told you that it was okay and we all have stories like that._

_I think I told you the story of when I got so drunk I shit myself in front of everyone at the party._

_Either that one or a different one._

_If it wasn’t that one, well, then I have another story to tell._

My heart was in the driver’s seat and there was no looking back. I ran my fingers over the keys as I pondered whether to send the next message.

_I still love you._

The message stared me back in the face. My thumb wavered over the send button. I sighed and turned off my screen. I rolled over and tried to go to sleep. I wrestled with sleep but I finally won and faded into it. 

I woke up the next morning to several texts. One from my manager, a couple from Bebe, none from Patrick. My heart sunk. Was he avoiding me? _I mean, why wouldn't he be avoiding you? You probably freaked him out with those texts last night._ Probably. 

Today was the day I was meeting up with Joe and Andy for lunch. Unfortunately, Joe cancelled last minute so it was just Andy and I. I was suspicious but I wasn’t about to go flaking on Andy. We met up at this little vegan place I was trying especially for him. It was about 12 when I got there and he was already waiting for me at the table. He smiled when he saw me. He stood up and I hugged him.  
“Hey man, it’s good to see you!” I said.  
“Good to see you too. It’s been too long,” he said. We both sat down.  
“So, how’s everything going? How’s the band? How’s Joe? How’re you?” I asked. He laughed at all the questions.  
“Everything’s been pretty chill. The band is good. I’m good as well. I would assume Joe’s good. He was busy today with our manager. Some meeting or something,” he said vaguely. Whatever. I didn’t want to hear whatever bullshit excuse he was going to use to get out of this.  
“Yeah. That’s okay. I can see you’ve tatted yourself up a bit more,” I pointed out. He looked down at his arms.  
“Oh yeah. I’ve basically become a human canvas,” he said. I laughed.  
“It’s cool man. Tasteful. I’d never do it but you pull it off,” I said.  
“Well thanks. I’d hope it looks good considering I’ve been giving money to these people to shove needles in my skin,” he said. I smiled. It was good to see Andy again.

We ordered and then he started pointing out his new tattoos. He explained the significance of some of them to me and I was super interested. As crazy as I thought Andy was for getting so many, he definitely looked tough and they looked good. After that we talked about Ash and the divorce for a bit. That wasn’t much fun. He was sympathizing with me, he just didn’t seem like he was connecting. Obviously, I didn’t expect much considering the fact that none of the boys in the group had been through divorce. Just wished they could understand. But, that wouldn’t be the first thing about me they didn't understand.

We then got our food and started reminiscing a bit.  
“So, have you heard from Patrick?” he asked. I nodded through bites of food.  
“Yeah. He actually visited me yesterday for a while,” I said. He looked at me curiously.  
“Really? What’d you two do?” I shrugged.  
“Just talk mostly. Caught up. We listened to a couple records at my place and then he left to go to a meeting. He left kinda suddenly and it caught me off guard. I don’t know. It was weird,” I trailed off.  
“I mean, the guy’s been busy with that solo album of his. Give him a break,” he said.  
“I know, I know. I’m just…it’s stupid,” I said. He narrowed his eyes.  
“Did anything…happen between you two?” he asked. I frowned.  
“No,” I said tersely. He smirked.  
“So, what’s the story between you two morning glory?” I pressed. Fuck you, Andy Hurley. Fuck you.  
“Nothing. We just met up,” I was trying my best to cover up myself. Unfortunately, the more I tried to bury myself beneath the feelings, Andy just kept digging toward me and pulling me out.  
“Riiiiiiight. Okay. Well, what are you thinking? Considering the fact you’re all lonely and single right now,” he said. I furrowed my brows.  
“I’m not thinking anything,” I was struggling.  
“So, you weren’t thinking about getting back together with him or anything, because that’d be dumb, right?” he said smugly. I gritted my teeth and exhaled.  
“Why do you care so much?” I asked defensively. He put his hands up.  
“Hey man, I’m just trying to get to the facts. Don’t fucking strangle me for it,” he said. I sighed and gave in.  
“There may have been…some thoughts along those lines…but they were definitely one sided thoughts,” I said. He laughed sarcastically.  
“Everyone and their mother sees the way Patrick looks at you, Pete. Don’t fool yourself,” he stated. I started to argue and he stopped me.  
“Do you ever, like, notice the things he says about you in interviews or in general? The man could not be more in fucking love with you. It oozes out of his ears,” he said. I bit my lip.  
“Regardless, I’m ninety-nine percent sure that it’s not one sided,” he said.  
“Okay, well, he was sending me really mixed signals yesterday and he was brushing me off and that wasn’t really that pleasant,” I explained. He rolled his eyes.  
“I mean, he has a girlfriend. The man is Honest Abe. He’s not gonna go around cheating. Of course he’s gonna cover everything up. Just talk to him for fuck’s sake, Pete. You two beating around the bush is annoying as hell to watch. Just do it,” he said. I sighed.  
“I’ll think about it,” I said.  
“Sometimes, I think you like making life hard and miserable for yourself,” he said.  
“I wouldn’t argue with you,” I agreed. 

We finished up eating and Andy left to go meet up with the band. I hugged him and told him we should hang again soon. He agreed. Neither of us mentioned Joe. I’m pretty sure that defined what was going on. Great, more shit I have to deal with later. I walked back to my place counting each step I took. Anything to distract my brain from having the thoughts flood in. I wasn’t paying attention and I ended up almost walking into traffic if some woman hadn’t pulled me out of the street. I blushed and thanked her. I was dazed. I couldn’t focus. My brain was on some other planet and I couldn’t drag it to be with me.


	6. Chapter 6

I ended up walking to some random coffee house and ordered whatever came to my mind. I was waiting up at the barista counter when I got shoved from behind. I turned around to see a familiar face with his arms open for a hug.  
“Dude!” he said. My face went from frustrated to happy within two seconds.  
“Oh my gosh look who it is,” I said. He laughed and pulled me for a hug.  
“How’re you doing Brendon? Wow, it’s been too long,” I said.  
“I know right!” he exclaimed pulling away from me. I grabbed my drink and we sat down.  
“You just came back from tour right?” I asked. I knew the answer. I just didn’t want to sound like I had been involved in everything.  
“Yeah, and I’m fucking exhausted. I need a break for like a year. I probably won’t be saying that forever though. Tomorrow I’ll probably be like, “Ah, let’s go another round!’” he said. I laughed.  
“Touring does that to you. It’s one of the best and worst things. You are so tired afterward but you crave that feeling you get,” I said.  
“Yeah, I totally know what you mean,” he said. I nodded.  
“So, what’s the plan with you now? Are you and Spence working on a new album or…?” I questioned. He shook his head.  
“Nah. We’re gonna take it easy for a while. We’ve got a couple things in the works but nothing’s solidified. We’ll see where the wind blows us,” he explained.  
“Sounds like a plan,” I said. He took a sip of his drink and pointed to me.  
“What about you? What’s up with your band?” he asked. I sighed.  
“Nothing really. We’ve got a couple songs in the making. Potentially an album but we’re not sure yet,” I said. I sound so unproductive.  
“That’s cool man. Creativity takes time,” he said. Well, that’s the nice way to put it.  
“So have you…talked to any…” he started. I knew people were kinda iffy with asking about the band. They didn’t know how aggressive we were toward each other. We weren’t…it’s just now Joe is having a thing and I really don’t want to get into whatever shit he’s gonna stir up.  
“Yeah. I actually just had lunch with Andy today and ran into Patrick yesterday,” I said.  
“Oh cool. Yeah, Patrick was so much fun to tour with. I wished we’d have gotten all of you. You guys are always a party to be around,” he said. I chuckled.  
“Well, we’ll see what direction everything decides to go in,” I said. Part of me wanted to ask for some advice from Brendon but then again Brendon didn’t know about Patrick and I’s history. No way I wanted to spend the next half and hour rehashing past events and catching Brendon up to speed on everything. So, he was to be left in the dark. I knew I wasn’t being as energetic as I usually am but he caught me at a bad time.  
“Hey man, I hate to split like this but I actually have an interview to get to,” I lied.  
“Oh sure no problem. Weird how we ran into each other. Well, it was good to see you man. Let me know if you’re free sometime soon. We could hang,” he suggested.  
“Sounds great. I’ll text you,” I said. I stood up and walked out the door. I began my distracted walk home again. Thoughts running in and out of my brain. I was scattered and my feet were taking me wherever they wanted to go. 

Somehow, by chance, I ended up back at my apartment. I walked inside and fell asleep immediately. I knew it was like 3 in the afternoon but I had nothing else to do. My mind said sleep, so I did. I ended up waking up at 8. I was groggy beyond all hell. My stomach was also growling. My confusion hadn’t left either. My mind was a hamster on a wheel, spinning all out of control. I blinked away the sleep. No way was I in any mood to cook for myself. I grabbed a coat and walked down to a pub at the corner of the street. I walked in wearily and sat down. I ordered something tiredly. The waitress nodded slowly before disappearing into the kitchen. I looked around and everything was blurry. I rubbed my eyes to try and wipe everything away but it didn’t leave me. I felt like I was on some weird LSD trip and I couldn’t get down. I got up for a second to go outside. I needed fresh air now. I felt like I was going to throw up. I was dizzy. 

Was I getting sick? What was this? I hadn’t smoked in who knows how long but I asked the guy who was outside for a cigarette. He looked at me kinda funny but he handed me one and lit it for me too. I sat there breathing death in and out like I had so many times before. I let the smoke fill every crevice of my lungs and consume me. In no way was this calming me down. I felt like I was going to have a heart attack. The skeleton beneath my skin and veins was going to jump out of me and run away. I tried to breathe but I couldn’t. I closed my eyes and tried to focus but I couldn’t. Why was I panicking so much? I didn’t know what I was freaked out about but everything was rushing over me and I felt like I was drowning. I had never experienced anything like this before in my life and they certainly don’t give you a list of every possible scenario you can have when you’re diagnosed with depression or bipolar or any other chemical imbalance that fucks with your brain. 

Suddenly, I was getting pushed up against the wall. I opened my eyes quickly and Patrick was there gripping my shoulders trying to bring me back to reality. My head was spinning. I was losing it.  
“Pete, Earth to Pete,” he was saying. I was blinking but nothing was getting clearer. My vision and hearing were fading. I slipped back against the wall and fell to my ass. I heard the guy who gave me the cigarette say, ‘whoa’ and back up. Patrick was saying something to me but I couldn’t hear it. My ears were ringing. I was trying my hardest to focus.  
“Breathe, okay? Just breathe for me,” I heard vaguely. I took deep shallow breaths. I couldn’t catch my breath. It wasn’t satisfying the need for oxygen. Just making me crave it even more. I closed my eyes and tried to calm down. The world was quiet and muted. It was like what I had wished for so many years ago, only now I didn’t want it to be like this. I tried to retune everything. I slowly started to hear things. My breathing became slower and I relaxed a bit. I fell back on the wall and opened my eyes to see Patrick looking concerned at me. I continued breathing.  
“You alright?” he asked. I nodded. He helped me up. I was still scattered and couldn’t bring myself completely back together. I started walking down the sidewalk. I wasn’t really sure where I was going. I was just going. Patrick ran up to me and stopped me from walking.  
“Where _are_ you going?” he asked putting his hand on my chest. If I had the answer, I’d tell you.  
“I…I…” I started. He could tell I was struggling.  
“Okay, let’s slow down for a second. Here, there’s a park across the street. Let’s go talk it out, okay?” he said. I nodded averting my eyes from him. We wandered over to the park and we sat beneath a streetlight on a bench. I was trying to sort through everything but I felt like I was in this maze and couldn’t find the way out. I was stuck in a corner.  
“Okay, can you tell me what happened?” he asked politely. I took a breath and began to talk.  
“I just, I had lunch with Andy and after that I’ve just been really off. I can’t focus, I don’t know what’s going on, I’m unaware and I feel like I’m suffocating,” I said motioning to my throat. He didn’t say anything.  
“Did you take your…?” he started. I rolled my eyes.  
“Yes,” I replied tersely. I shot him a look. He put his hands up defensively.  
“I’m just asking, just making sure,” he explained. I huffed annoyedly.  
“What are you thinking about? Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked gently. I closed my eyes and sighed.  
“I just, this,” was all I could manage. He winced and closed his eyes. He expected it too. He knew it, I knew it. I couldn’t avoid it though. It was going to come out eventually. He ran his hands through his bleached hair and put his hand over his mouth. _Bedhead,_ tumbled through my brain. He turned his feet on his ankles and began to talk.  
“You know we can’t do this,” he finally said. I looked at him blankly.  
“You think I don’t know that? I’ve been thinking about it all damn day. My mind keeps fucking taunting me by replaying every single stupid memory I’ve ever had,” I almost yelled. I saw his expression change from sad to frustrated.  
“I can’t just be some safety blanket for you!” he shouted. I shifted backward.  
“What do you-“  
“Oh, don’t you even fucking dare play the innocent card. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve been doing this ever since we broke up. Getting drunk at parties or on your own and leaning on me and hanging all over me and then basically begging me to blow you. Every time you’re lonely or confused or what the fuck ever, you come crying right back to me,” he growled.  
“You never…” I started.  
“No, but I wanted to. And you know how much it fucking sucks to then the next day watch you suck face with some random girl or see you fucking someone in your bunk? It’s pretty shitty” he snarled. I bit my lip.  
“Just because you and Ashlee are over doesn’t give you the right to come and beg for me back,” he stated. I looked away.  
“And you know I have a girlfriend,” he finally said. I closed my eyes and went from upset to pissed immediately. I knew I was going to go on thin ice but I wasn’t thinking logically right now.  
“Yeah okay, about that. Where the _hell_ did you manage to find some girl? You’ve been all ‘staying single forever’ and off limits and suddenly you come waltzing back with a new girl at the beginning of this year? What, you just decide to rub someone in _my_ face?” I accused. He looked offended.  
“You know, not everything is about you Pete Wentz. Did you ever consider that I _like_ this girl? That she makes me _happy_? And what about you? If we’re going to play the ‘who is rubbing someone in the other’s face’ then what the absolute fuck was your marriage? Because I seem to recall someone getting engaged quite shortly after meeting Ash, not to mention then getting her _pregnant_ ,” he retorted. I was silent. He knew he had won.  
“That’s what I fucking thought. Don’t you ever dare tell me I was the one flaunting someone in your face. If you want to go shitting on your friends, might wanna take a look at yourself in the mirror first,” he said. I sighed. This hadn’t made things any better and it didn’t make my mind any more clear. I still wasn’t thinking logically. I was pissed and my mind and heart weren’t on speaking terms. So of course, what the fuck do I do, try to fix everything.  
“I just…I’m so fucking confused and I really fucking miss you. Not just like that but as a friend. It’s been so different not having you guys around and it’s been…really hard and really shitty,” I said feeling the tears welling up in my eyes. My mind was back in panic mode and I couldn’t think. Patrick looked over. He was contemplating what to do. He sighed angrily and started kissing me. I was so fucking confused. I immediately leaned away from the kiss but ended up kissing him back. My eyes were open and my mind was filled with questions. It was like a sputtering machine not knowing what to do. The error screen on the computer. 

His kisses were aggressive and much more needy. He was biting my lips and his tongue was moving hastily throughout my mouth. I was much slower than him but I also still didn’t know what the hell was going on. His hand was behind my neck gripping it tightly and digging his fingers in. My hand tried to wander to find his neck but he swatted it away.  
“Stop,” he murmured between the kiss. So I did. _What the actual fuck is going on…?_ His lips were hot and tasted like cherries. It was so familiar like we had done a thousand times before. He started roughly grinding against my crotch and my brain went blank. 

He abruptly stopped and I basically fell out of the kiss. He still looked beyond pissed but he was giving me this really weird vibe. He stood up and grabbed my hand. I followed him but my mind was busy analyzing what had just happened. He hailed a cab and he told the cab driver the address to my apartment. He then pulled me back in to make out as we started to drive away. This time though, he let my hands wander. He palmed at my growing erection. I moaned. I knew the cab driver was probably getting so creeped out (I’d tip him extra) but I didn’t care. I ran my fingers through his hair and smiled against his lips. Throughout this whole time he hadn’t said a word and I was wondering if he was being passive-aggressive about everything. But how exactly is this being passive? Whatever, enjoy now, regret/over-analyze later. 

We got out of the cab and I threw the guy a fifty even though it was only twenty bucks to my place. Patrick was pushing me up the stairs of my apartment. He wasn’t smiling at me or anything though. He had this possessive look of lust and anger. Whatever the fuck he was pulling was turning me on more than anything he’d ever done. We stepped in the elevator and he shoved me up against the wall and pushed up my shirt and began nipping at my chest. He ran his hands over my nipples and I moaned and grinded up against him. His hands dug into the back of my neck harder and harder. When we heard the elevator door open, he gripped my hand and pulled me to my door. He unlocked it quickly and slammed the door shut. He then turned around to look at me. There was this wickedly unfamiliar lust in his eyes. His blue eyes were cold and harsh instead of welcoming and bright. I didn’t know where this facade was coming from but I didn’t care. He walked slowly up to me and bit my lip.

“Go to your room” he growled. His voice was deep and punishing. I had never heard him like this. I did as I was told and he followed me in. He, yet again, pushed me up against the wall and pulled off my shirt. He began biting his way down to my jeans. He unbuckled them and pulled them down to my ankles. I was kissing his shoulder and I pulled off his shirt. He turned me around and pulled down his jeans. He pulled a condom out of my back jean pocket and I smirked up against the wall. I grabbed the lube from my bedside table and gave it to him. He grabbed it out of my hands and rolled the condom on. I closed my eyes, waiting. He shoved two fingers in me and I let out a gasp. He began twisting slowly. I was tense and we both knew it. I was still anxious, added to the fact that I hadn’t done anal in who knows how fucking long. He turned inside me slowly and I let out a low moan. He shoved a third finger in and gritted my teeth. I couldn’t see the look on his face but I hoped it had a smug smile on it. From how things had been going, it probably wasn’t. He then pulled his fingers out and pushed himself in. I let out a cry of pleasure. He began thrusting into me. Our bodies melded together. He leaned his head on my shoulder and I could hear his breathing in my ear. I smiled weakly remembering the familiar sound. It almost pushed me over the edge put I had to focus. I felt his hand around my dick and he began rubbing it hard and fast. I let out a groan and couldn’t contain it anymore. I comed on the wall and I felt him come too. He pulled out and I sunk to my knees. My breathing was fast and uneven. I was probably laughing though. I couldn’t tell. My vision was blurring again. I heard him buckle up his jeans and walk into the bathroom. I pulled up my boxers and lied on the ground. Everything was ringing in my ears once again. 

I lied against the wall trying to recover as I saw Patrick leave my bathroom shirtless. He still hadn’t said anything. I was coming to it and needed to ask but I couldn’t. My mouth was too swollen and tired to move. I saw him grab his shirt and pull it over himself. As much as I had just loved what had happened, I was confused. He was not the guy who leaves right after sex, and mind-blowing sex if I might add in my opinion. I needed to protest.  
“Wait…what? Where’re you…?” I tried breathlessly. He looked over at me but didn't say a word. I furrowed my brows. He turned to the door and looked like he was about to leave. No. _No_. That’s all I could think. I stood up and began following him out.  
“What so that’s it? You’re just leave after fucking me think _that_?” I called out. The asshole part of me had re-awoken. He turned around and looked at me innocently.  
“Yep,” he said succinctly. I looked around confusedly.  
“…what?” I asked. He started walking to the door.  
“Wait,” I said walking and closing the door with my hand. He looked annoyed.  
“You just told me like 45 minutes ago that you have a girlfriend, and nothing would happen. And you’re just gonna sit here and justify it with that excuse?” I said trying to wrap my head around everything. He nodded slowly. I blinked back the astonishment.  
“Okay, you need to sit down and we need to talk because I’m gonna lose it again,” I said putting my hand to my forehead. The exhaustion was coming and I was becoming delirious it felt like. What the literal _fuck_ is going on? He pulled me in for a kiss again. I…what?! I returned the kiss but I couldn’t…what…He straightened up and wasn’t showing me any emotion.  
“Night Pete,” he said before opening the door and leaving. Totally unattached. And I just let him leave like that? What….?! If there wasn’t a guarantee that I was getting sleep tonight, that assuredly confirmed it.

I walked like a zombie back to my bed and lied down letting the thoughts slowly trickle back into my head like a faucet. I opened my phone and texted him.

_We need to talk tomorrow._


	7. Chapter 7

I woke up the next morning sore and achy all over. My back felt like it had bruises up and down it. I don’t know what Patrick was doing back there, but he went hard as hell. Speaking of Patrick, I needed to know what the literal hell he was pulling last night. I called him as soon as I got up. It was 11 and I figured he’d be up by now. I dialed his number and it went straight to voicemail. Fuck. I texted him.

_Can you call me or text me please? Can you meet up today?_

Ugh, I sounded like all the ex-girlfriends I never wanted to sound like. So desperate and begging for attention. Never thought I’d be the one on the other side. My phone buzzed.

_Sorry in a meeting, I couldn’t answer. Yeah, okay. Let’s get lunch at 12._

I didn’t really want to be out in public talking about everything so I figured I’d pick up lunch and we could eat at the studio. I needed to stop by there anyway to pick up an mp3 of a demo we’d finally put together. I told him to meet me there at 12 and I said I’d grab stuff. I got showered, got dressed quickly, and left to grab some sandwiches and salads. 

I brought the stuff to the studio. When I got there, no one was there. Figures. Who’d be working on a band like us when we weren’t even showing up? I turned on the lights and sat down on the stool in front of the recording booth. I grabbed the thumb drive labeled ‘BC DEMO’ and plugged it into the board and began listening to it. It was okay. Bebe sounded pretty good, I didn’t really like how the lyrics went with her sound though so that needed to be changed. I thought the beat was too fast and the melody wasn’t prominent enough. So basically, we needed to change everything. But it was a start, I guess. One of my basses was in the studio and I grabbed it. I started plucking out Everlong by Foo Fighters. I wished I could be like them. Solid. Seven albums. Super popular. They had everything. I think I had everything. But you only realize too late what you have. And then it’s gone. 

I heard the door open and I saw Patrick come in with his Ray-Ban’s on. He put them on the top of his head. I stopped strumming.  
“Breathe out, so I can breathe you in,” he quoted. I smiled and nodded.  
“Good song. I like the acoustic version even better,” he said.  
“I do too. Wise stylistic choice on their behalf. Dave knew what he was talking about,” I agreed. Patrick saw the bag of food and pointed to it. I nodded and he walked over and pulled out his salad.  
“Look at you being all healthy,” I noted. He shrugged.  
“Chopped salad. Not exactly the pinnacle of healthy but it’s better than fast food I guess,” he said.  
“True, true. Hey, you know who has good Chopped salad? Portillo’s,” I said. He nodded enthusiastically through a bite of salad.  
“Oh yeah man. They had the best stuff. Their Italian beefs were dank too. Man I wish we could go and get some,” he said.  
“It sucks that it’s Illinois’ In N’ Out,” I said.  
“Yeah. They need to get some out here. Or, we just need to be back there,” he said.  
“I wish I could be back there. Unfortunately, it’s just easier to be out here. I don’t know how you do it,” I said. He thought for second before answering.  
“I love what I love. Chicago is part of me. It’s who I am, it’s how I grew up and it shaped me. To just let it go like that is just…I can’t. I want it to continue to be a part of my life so I have to sacrifice some money to be able to stay in Chicago but also be able to be out here in LA when the time comes,” he explained.  
“I guess. I wish it was that easy for me,” I said. We sat there silently for a minute. I worked up the nerve to ask. My stomach was twisting and creating this huge knot in my stomach that wasn’t unraveling no matter how much I tried to suppress it.  
“Can I just…about last night…” I said closing my eyes. He laughed. I furrowed my brows. What… _what_ ….  
“Am I missing something…?” I asked sharply. He stopped.  
“What do you want to know about last night?” he asked. I looked around the room awkwardly.  
“Um, I don’t know, maybe how you didn't say a word to me basically the whole night. You were so fucking pissed and angry with me and then you start shoving your tongue down my throat and the next minute we’re at my apartment and you’re fucking me on the wall? That persona you just pulled out your ass? How you then _left_ after that?” I said obviously. He bit his lip.  
“Wow, okay, lots of questions,” he said. I sighed and rolled my eyes.  
“Okay, okay calm down. Okay, um, I was pissed at you and I needed you to stop playing the victim and I wanted you to shut the hell up and I needed your brain to stop functioning. You don’t think after years and years of being your friend that I don’t know how to make you malfunction?” he asked. My cheeks were hot. It’s just always been weird to have people know me better than I know myself.  
“Next, I don’t know, I was ab-libbing? I was angry and I just kinda let that flow through me and it just morphed into this lustful…me more or less? I hope you’re okay with that…” he said.  
“There’s no problem. You were…so fucking hot,” I heard myself say. Okay, making this really awkward. He looked away quickly and breathed in awkwardly. Shit. Damnit, Pete.  
“Third,” he said ignoring the fact that I had just physically bred awkwardness in the room, “I left because, again, I was still pissed at you and I needed to go over-analyze what I had just done alone,” he said. Another thing we had in common. Cycle through events that had happened that day and repeat them on a loop over and over and over again.  
“I know it was mean and I immediately regretted it and I wanted to call you and apologize last night but then I felt like you deserved it but then that made me feel even more guilty and I was gonna text you first thing this morning and then I had that meeting so I couldn’t and I just, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. I smiled at him.  
“Still the same old Patrick Stump,” I said. He smiled and shuffled his feet.  
“But what about your girlfriend?” I asked.  
“We were taking a break while I was on tour. We’ll see what happens when I get back to Chicago.” Darts in my heart. Fuck my life. I’m sure he saw my expression change and he immediately looked like he’d kicked a puppy.  
“Oh…no…that’s not to say last night didn’t mean anything. Shit. I’m so bad at this and everything. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I don’t know if we’ll get back together,” he tried to fix it. It didn’t matter. What he really meant had come out, regardless of whether or not I had wanted to hear it. He closed his eyes.  
“I really fucking missed you,” he said heavily.  
“I missed your jokes, I missed your laugh, I missed our late night conversations,” he said.  
“So you did get my texts,” I said. He looked guiltily.  
“Yes, I did. And it made me so fucking nostalgic. A million memories washed over me and I couldn't text back at that moment. I’m sorry,” he apologized.  
“I missed being on the tour bus together. I missed lying next to you in bed. I missed you messing with my hair,” he said. I smiled and walked over to him. I ran my hands through his hair and pulled him in for a kiss. My heart was pierced and bleeding but I was addicted to him and couldn’t get myself off of him.  
“You know I missed you,” I said. He smiled weakly.  
“I have to go back to Chicago at the end of the week. I’m only here to do a couple of interviews and take some stuff back from my apartment,” he said quietly.  
“Well, then we’ll make the best of your time here,” I whispered.  
“I’m sorry for last night and everything. I’m so sorry,” he said again. I wrapped him in my arms, hoping I’d never have to let him go.  
“Stop apologizing, didn’t I already teach you to be a little selfish? It’s okay, even if you were an asshole,” I said. He pulled away and looked at me guiltily. I chuckled.  
“I’m kidding. I’m giving you grief, calm down Stump,” I said pulling him into my arms tightly.  
“You’re the asshole,” he mumbled beneath my chest. I laughed. I couldn’t deny it. He pulled away and fixed his hair a bit. I laughed.  
“Can I ask you something?” he said uncomfortably shifting his weight between his legs.  
“Yeah sure. Shoot,” I said. He looked around the room looking for an alibi.  
“Have you…thought about the band?” he asked slowly, his voice decreasing in volume.  
“What do you mean by ‘thought about’ it?” I asked. I leaned up against the wall and he sat down.  
“Like, you know, getting back together?” he murmured. I was quiet for a second.  
“I mean sure. Yeah, why?” I questioned. I was drawing it out of him.  
“Cause, I don’t know, I’ve just been thinking that maybe it’s time Fall Out Boy picks up the reins and starts up again,” he said. I thought for a second and nodded my head.  
“Yeah, I guess I’ve been thinking about that. I mean, my band isn’t going in any direction. Only a couple of singles and nothing’s really hit,” I said.  
“I don’t know. I’ve just had a couple things swimming around my head that don’t go with my music and, you know, my solo career hasn’t been doing all that well, so I just thought, maybe, it’s time to get back together,” he said.  
“What just made you want to get back now?” I asked. He shrugged.  
“I mean, the critics completely shit all over my album and I was really hurt. I took it as, ‘well, Folie didn't do well and neither did this, so maybe just stop doing music?’ But I realized I was being dumb and I thought, it’s been a long enough time now. I think it’s time to jump back in the pool,” he explained. I nodded.  
“I mean sure dude. I’m all on board. It’s Andy and Joe you have to worry about,” I said. He bit his lip.  
“Have you talked to Joe?” he asked me. I made a face.  
“I mean, yes and no. He called me a couple nights ago, drunk, but that was the first time in months he’s called me. Also, I was suppose to have lunch with Andy and him and he flaked out,” I said.  
“Yeah, he texted me a couple times but I haven’t really gotten much from him. Mind you, I haven’t exactly been super social over here but he’s just been…avoidant? That’s the word I guess?” he said.  
“Well, maybe we could meet up sometime this week and talk about the possibility,” I suggested.  
“Yeah, maybe,” he said quietly. There was a moment of silence.  
“In the meanwhile, you wanna show me what idea you had? Maybe we could make something,” I said.  
“Let’s do it,” he said, his face lighting up a bit. 

We sat down next to the control board. Patrick grabbed a guitar from inside the recording room and started some of the chords that had been lingering about his head. I pulled out my phone and showed him a couple of possible lyrics that I had come up with randomly. We began drafting…something. I wasn’t sure what it was. It wasn’t a whole song, it was a chorus maybe? A verse? I don’t know. It had potential to be something though. I began humming some random tune I’d come up with. He was looking through my phone at the other lyrics when he looked up and he had this thoughtful look on his face. He pointed to me.  
“Wait wait, hold up. What chords were those? Hum that again. I’m gonna use some of your lyrics,” he said. I nodded and began humming again.  
“Let’s be alone together. We could stay young forever, screaming from the top of your lungs,” he sang. My face changed. That was good. _That_ was _good_. I hadn’t gotten that excited about composing for months.  
“What do you think?” he asked. I nodded.  
“I like it. That was really good. Like, _really_ good. But here, raise it a half octave and try it that way,” I said. Patrick picked up his guitar and quickly wrote down what chords he was playing. He strummed out and sang what we made. A smile was growing on my face. I felt my heart raise. He stopped and raised his hands up.  
“Yes. Yes, I like that. Do you? What do you think?” I asked excitedly. He chuckled.  
“I like it. Simple, but I like it,” he said. He wrote down what we had come up with.  
“Do you mind if I show you what I had been working on? I was going to send it to you when I got back to Chicago from touring but since I’m here now, I might as well show you,” he casually asked. I nodded encouragingly.  
“Now mind you, my lyrics are not as good as yours so mine are probably a bit weak. No judging,” he said. I rolled my eyes. Then, he started playing. They were soft quiet chords but had this intriguing vibe to them.  
“In poisoned places we are anti venom, this is the beginning of the end. It’s all over now, before the war’s begun, they’ve already won,” he sung. I nodded subtly while he sung. He stopped a couple seconds after that.  
“I don’t know, it was a start to something,” he said.  
“No, no, that was good. We can work on it. It’s a good start. It’s promising,” I said. He smiled.  
“Thanks. Just random stuff I’ve been working on in my down time on the bus,” he said. I began writing down ideas to add to Patrick’s lyrics and Patrick began working on a chord base. After about 15 minutes of drafting, I spoke up.  
“Weird how we go off on our own lives and then eventually the path leads us back to this. We end up back where we started. You and me, in a control room, writing songs,” I said. He smiled reminiscently.  
“Funny how life works like that,” he said.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who read this chapter already, I posted the wrong cut to this chapter yesterday! So sorry, here's the correct one. For those of you who have no idea what's going on or who have never read this chapter, then disregard this note :)

After finishing our lunch and a ton of drafting, we left the studio two and a half hours later. Patrick went back to his place to do a phone interview and I had a couple things to do at my place. This afternoon had been the best afternoon I’d had in a really long while. Unfortunately, I only had four days with him and two of those days he was packing and interviewing. God seems to avert my happiness for his own humor. I was hoping that he’d miraculously be free for the evening and would drop by my place. 

I ended up sitting at my apartment hoping the phone would ring. When did my life get this desperate that _I_ was _sitting_ by the phone hoping it’d ring? Never thought I’d be on the receiving end but I guess there’s a time and a place for everyone. _Okay, staring at the phone for hours is not going to solve your problems. Go do something AT LEAST if you’re going to be waiting for him to call._ I guess my brain did have a point. I turned on the TV and began flipping the channels mindlessly hoping something would catch my eye. The colors skipped past my irises and lingered in my eyes. I drifted off to sleep while trying to watch some bad old 60s horror movie. I awoke later to a loud knock on my door. I jumped off my couch in some stupidly defensive position. I muted the TV as I stood up. I rubbed my eyes to try and get the sleep out of my eyes. I tripped falling into the door abruptly. I grunted as my head hit the door.  
“Are you fucking serious,” I growled. I scratched my head as I opened the door. No one was outside. I groaned and closed it. Fucking kids ding-dong ditching. My phone buzzed and I went over to grab it.

_Hey, my interview is finished. Mind if I come over and invade?_

I smiled.

_No, you’re forbidden from my apartment. Haven’t I told you? You’re banished for life._

I waited for his witty response.

_Oh what a shame. It’s just, I had all this free, warm pizza that I wanted to share with someone…guess I’ll just have to throw it away._

The thought of pizza made my mouth water. 

_Hmmm, maybe we can make an exception…just this once._

I walked into the kitchen to put some beers in the freezer. They weren’t cold and I needed them to be.

_Thought so. Be over soon._

And soon it was. He arrived half an hour later with a box of pizza. I opened the door and immediately took the box from him. He laughed.  
“Nice to see you too Pete,” he said.  
“My love has returned to me,” I marveled. He laughed. I set the box down on the coffee table and opened it. I grabbed a slice as he sat down across from me. I looked up at him as I devoured my slice.  
“Aren’t you gonna have any?” I asked with my mouth full.  
“Nah, that salad filled me up. Also, pressing questions tend to set back my appetite,” he said.  
“What was it about?” I asked. He sighed.  
“Just a stupid journalist asking my opinion on the critics reviews of the album. Like, what do you think my opinion is? Not exactly thrilled about it…” he said. I nodded.  
“Well fuck them. They don’t know what they’re talking about,” I said confidently. He smiled weakly.  
“Thanks but it’s okay. Just a part of life. Being a musician and all,” he said.  
“True that,” I said. I saw I had left on the bad horror movie. I quickly shut it off and began on my second slice. He stood up and walked over to my record box and player. He began looking through the box again and pulled out Metallica’s ‘Kill Em All’. He put it on the turntable and began playing it softly. I smiled down at my feet.  
“My weakness,” I said. He smiled.  
“Your love for this band will never dwindle. If it does, we know the world is ending,” he said. I laughed.  
“Yeah, just like you and Elvis Costello,” I said.

He rubbed his hands together and sat down next to me. I sat down my pizza slice on the box and looked at him. I knew where this was going. I was gonna let it happen anyway. He leaned into me and began kissing me. I’m pretty sure my lips tasted like tomato sauce and breadcrumbs. His lips were hot and soft. His hand cupped my neck and his fingers gently stroked the back of my neck. I put my hands on his cheeks and melted myself into the kiss. He fell backward a bit and I fell on top of him. His kisses became much more needy and intimate. I reached over his head and turned off the light glaring down on us. He began pulling my shirt off over my head. I caressed behind his ear and he moaned quietly. I smiled as he ran his fingers up and down my chest. He leaned up and kissed my shoulder and bit my ear lobe gently. I choked out a gasp. He giggled quietly. I began pulling off his shirt when he stopped me. I froze momentarily.  
“What?” I whispered as if someone else in the room would hear us.  
“I…stop. I can’t do this,” he hesitated. I sat up and turned on the light. His face was red, showing his embarrassment as it had so many times before.  
“I…it’s not you, it’s me,” he said quickly. I was still confused as hell.  
“I…I relapsed,” he admitted. I was quiet. I sighed sadly. I closed my eyes.  
“So, I’m not exactly comfortable with the whole, body thing at the moment,” he explained.  
“But…the other night…?” I tried.  
“You were facing away from me and weren’t taking my shirt off. It was okay…sort of…” he murmured.  
“You know I think you’re perfect. You are perfect. Why would you be uncomfortable in front of me?” I asked. He sighed.  
“It’s complicated, look you know it’s hard for me?” he whined.  
“I know, I know. I get it,” I said. He looked sadly at me.  
“When…when did it happen?” I asked gently.  
“I got crazy with the weight loss. It went overboard. I lost control,” he said. I inhaled silently.  
“You know I’m proud of you for losing the weight. It was a really good thing and I’m so happy you’re feeling better and becoming more confident and what not. But, please Patrick, I can’t stand to have you destroying yourself. Also, why didn’t you tell me when it happened?” I asked more forcefully than I meant to. He looked a bit upset by this.  
“Well, for starters, it’s not exactly easy to help someone with a relapse when you’re states away from each other. Also, I can’t be dependent on you all the time. I need to be able to help myself,” he stated. Well, that sucked.  
“I know. I get that. And I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I just…I thought we were in a place where we could tell each other anything. You can come to me whenever with anything, regardless of whatever the fuck is going on with the band,” I said. He sighed.  
“I’m sorry you feel hurt by this. I know it’s hard for you to deal. And we are at that place. I promise. In that moment, you were far away and I’m not going to ask you uproot whatever plans you are doing to take care of me for a while. That’s selfish of me. I managed. It’s a process,” he said. I pulled him in for a hug. He fell into my shoulder naturally.  
“I’m so sorry. For everything. That I wasn’t there. I promise, I’m here for you whenever. Please, don’t feel bad about ever calling me, especially something like this. I would have been there at the drop of a hat,” I said. I felt him breathe into my shoulder. He gripped my back.  
“It’s been so hard, Pete. So, fucking, hard. Especially without you,” he admitted. My heart sunk.  
“I’m here now. You’re stuck with me, Stump. You don’t get to get rid of me so easy,” I said. He chuckled. He pulled out from me and I ruffled his hair. He swatted my hand away and laughed. I threw a pillow at him. He laughed and avoided it.  
“Asshole,” he said. I stuck my tongue out at him and giggled. 

After that, I ended up putting on some bad teen movie from the 80s. Patrick had brought his laptop so he was messing with something in Garageband. I kept occasionally throwing popcorn kernels at hit head just to annoy him. Sometimes, he’d ignore me. Others, he’d make some face at me and I’d look at him innocently. Finally, he grabbed the bowl from me and threw a handful at me. I ducked and all the kernels missed.  
“You are a fucking child,” he said. I laughed. He tried to be mad at me but couldn’t and ended up cracking a smile. I came and sat down next to him. I plucked a kernel from his hair and popped it in my mouth. He looked disgusted.  
“You’re nasty,” he said. I shrugged.  
“Hope you washed your hair and don’t have lice,” I said.  
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve been rolling around in lots of grass and mud lately so I wouldn’t be so trusting,” he teased. I rolled my eyes. He continued looking at his screen and I peered over his shoulder. He tilted his head away from mine and eyed me.  
“Can I help you?” he asked.  
“I just wanna see what you’re working on. Is that such a crime?” I said. He exhaled and pushed the screen out a bit so I could see. He pressed play and a drum beat that he’d created played along with a bass and a guitar strumming notes.  
“You recorded the guitars?” I asked. He nodded. I listened.  
“It’s good. I like it. Some idea for your next album?” I asked. He shook his head.  
“Nah, just messing around with stuff. You know, being creative and all. Kinda part of my job,” he explained. I sighed annoyedly.  
“Wow. Could’ve fooled me,” I said sarcastically. He shoved me.  
“Shut up. I don’t see you doing anything,” he said.  
“It’s because _I can’t_ do anything. Lyricist, remember?” I pointed out. He rolled his eyes.  
“You’ve had your moments,” he said.  
“Still. Don’t you remember who used to do the majority of the composing?” I asked. He was silent.  
“Exactly. The Pete and Patrick show. One writes, the other composes. Coming to a screen near you,” I said.  
“They could have asked,” he said tensely. Shit. I had gotten him on a tangent that I hadn’t meant to. I suppose it was time to talk about this. We hadn’t yet so…  
“I think Joe thought he couldn’t. I think he thought we just kinda brushed him off,” I explained.  
“I was more than welcome to ideas. You guys knew that, didn’t you?” he asked looking at me. I shrugged.  
“I was fine where I was. Lyrics were my thing. Composing was your thing. But I’m sure being in the back seat pissed them off. I see where they’re coming from,” I said. He sighed.  
“If you guys didn’t like Folie, why didn’t you say something?” he asked. I bit my lip.  
“I mean, I liked Folie. A lot. Honest. I think it was lyrically challenging and the sounds we put out weren’t bad. I just think they weren’t really us. And I totally get that you wanted to be a bit more creatively inclined. No one blames you for it. I think that the record just emphasized everything. And, worst came to worst unfortunately,” I explained. He exhaled. We sat there in silence for a moment.  
“Would you be interested in working on Fall Out Boy stuff?” he asked.  
“I’ve already told you, I’m a hundred and twenty percent on board. It’s not me, it’s Andy and Joe. And not even so much Andy. Just Joe,” I said.  
“I know. Fuck,” he sighed frustratedly.  
“If we want to start putting this into their brains, we need to talk to them. And by that, I think you need to sit down with Joe and tell him what you told me,” I suggested.  
“I know I do. I just, Joe hasn’t been on great terms with me and I’m not all that anxious to sit down and talk about our feelings about everything,” he said.  
“Understandable. I’ll work on Andy,” I said.  
“Oh wow. Hope you don’t get too stressed out with that. Hate for it to take a toll on you,” he said sarcastically. I shoved him.  
“Fuck you,” I said. He laughed and then sighed.  
“Well, I guess I’ll schedule a meet up with Joe. Should start to get things rolling so we have a plan for this next year,” he said.  
“Sounds good,” I said.


	9. Chapter 9

Once we had discussed all of that somewhat unpleasant stuff, we walked into my bedroom where I had some more of my record collection. We looked through them for a couple of minutes before Patrick told me he had to show me something. He pulled out his iPhone and we sat down on my bed listening to the song. We shared earbuds like teenagers. To be honest, I thought this music was garbage and I hated it, but I listened to it for him. He was always showing me weird stuff and I was never sure whether I was going to get something good or something bad. I never protested, but occasionally, I spoke my opinion.  
“Oh God, Patrick. This is what you had to show me?” I asked laughing. He rolled his head over to look at me.  
“Hey! Rude. Be patient. I know, I know, I thought the same thing until the bridge at the end and then I was blown away,” he said.  
“Better be a hell of a bridge,” I said.  
“It is,” he promised. 

We sat there listening to it until the bridge came. Patrick put his hands up to alert me of what was coming. I didn’t have high expectations. This girl sounded like a nobody and she certainly wasn’t really all that good of a singer. But suddenly, this lyrical piece came out of nowhere. This blend of synthesizer, electric guitar, and an organ melded together this intricate sound. My body tensed up and goosebumps covered my arms. A chill ran through my body as I heard someone striking vibes in the background. Patrick was gripping my arm. I’m sure he felt everything I was feeling. After thirty seconds of this wordless part, the bridge ended and the chorus returned. I looked over at Patrick. He smiled.  
“Holy, fucking, shit, that was so great!” I exclaimed.  
“Did I tell you, or did I tell you?” he asked. I lifted my arm.  
“Goosebumps! I did not expect shit from this girl but whoever wrote that part needs a high five right now,” I said. He laughed.  
“How on Earth did you find that?” I asked.  
“I’m not sure. Weird part of the internet you get into. I was listening to some soul music and it was under the recommended videos. It had an interesting title and thumbnail so I figured, I’ll give it a shot. Best decision ever,” he said.  
“That was great. Made my day,” I said. He smiled. I looked at his lips. He returned the gesture and we melted into a kiss. His lips were soft and smooth. The goosebumps returned to my arms. His hand brushed over my cheek as it wandered its’ way over to my neck. His lips were warm and inviting. I could sense and feel a bit of hesitation on his end but he let it go and let himself travel deeper into the kiss. We were wanderers and we didn’t want to be found. Problems that didn’t want to be solved. 

He kissed me more fiercely and ended up climbing on top of me. His knees straddled my legs and he leaned down to press his lips into mine more desperately. Our mouth collided and our tongues slid between our lips. He bit me accidentally. I could taste the blood between our lips. Each breath I took was quick to try to not interrupt anything. I leaned up a bit and he tugged my shirt off. I started to lift his shirt up when I pulled away looking at him to confirm whether I could do this. He looked a bit unsure.  
“You’re perfect. Can you trust me? I promise you you won’t focus on it at all,” I assured. His eyes flicked away from mine but he pushed himself back into kissing me. I took it as a yes and pulled his shirt off slowly. I finally got it over his head and opened my eyes briefly. I pulled my lips off his for a breath.  
“Holy shit, you’re beautiful,” I whispered before pulling him back into me.  
I began lining his neck and chest with kisses. He moaned a bit. My hands crawled over his back, running my fingers between each now defined muscle. I felt his shoulder blades shift over me and I stroked his spine. He hummed out and I began nipping his chest. I ran my hands over his nipples and he gasped.  
“Oh, God…” he let out. I felt his growing erection beneath his jeans. I grinned my hips against his. I could feel him losing control and losing thought. I smiled against his skin. I ran my tongue over his skin and I felt him shudder beneath me. 

I began to unbuckle his belt and he fumbled trying to get my jeans off. I let out an accidental laugh but I didn’t care. In the moment, it was irrelevant. He finally managed to pull off my jeans and I looked up at him before pulling his pants down.  
“What do you want?” I asked him breathlessly. His mind was searching. I wanted him to be selfish. He needed it.  
“I need you inside of me. Now,” he said desperately. A smug grin came across my face.  
“Whatever you say, Stump,” I said slyly. 

I turned him around on the bed and began running my hands up and down his back. My fingernails dug into his skin and left red marks up and down his back. He let out a murmur of pain. I leaned down and bit his ear lobe gently.  
“Jesus, stop fucking around back there,” he said. This, genuinely made me laugh.  
“You’re such an asshole,” I joked. He was impatient. I got it. 

I began to slide down his jeans, slowly, painstakingly. I dragged my tongue down to his entrance and he let out a moan. I grinned at this.  
“Hm? You like that? You want me to fuck you?” I teased. He couldn’t form words. He just let out some weird, horny noise that I knew meant yes. I was going to never let this go.  
“C’mon, Stump. Tell me. Make me,” I demanded.  
“Yes,” he breathed out. 

I leaned over to my quickly and pulled out some lube and a condom from the drawer. I slicked up my fingers and stood over him looking at him. He really was beautiful. Especially lying beneath my shadow in the dark. All the curves of his body were illuminated perfectly in the dark with the moon shining in. I know, I’m being sappy, but, _fuck_. Patrick Stump did things to my head that I’d never admit about anyone else.

I hunched down above him and bent down to his ear.  
“I want you to jerk yourself off while I do this,” I said. He nodded vaguely underneath me. I slid one finger into his entrance. He gasped.  
“Holy fuck,” he stuttered. I turned my finger slowly in him, feeling his tensity.  
“Relax,” I whispered into his ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up. I twisted a bit more before shoving a second one in. I heard him muffle a moan in the back of his throat. Sweat was beginning to form on his neck and it was sliding slowly down the crevices of his back. I leaned my head down to lick it away and his back arched away from my tongue but he let out a sound of pleasure. 

I finally put a third finger in and twisted, a bit rougher than I had before. Patrick was really tense. I could tell he hadn’t been doing this in a while and he was nervous and stressed. The nervous part, I needed to indulge in.  
“Do I make you nervous Patrick? You’re so tense,” I clucked my tongue. He exhaled deeply.  
“Pete…please…” he whined. I leaned down close to his ear.  
“Do I make your heart race? Do I make you tense? You’re really wound up,” I hummed. He was using all his strength not to lose control.  
“Do I make you hard? Hm?” I whispered.  
“Y…yes…Oh God yes…” he let out. I chuckled quietly.  
“Now, you have to wait till I say you can come, okay? Are you okay with that?” I asked.  
“Jesus fucking Christ yes…Oh God please Pete,” he spit out.  
“Holding you to your promise,” I said.

I then slid my fingers out and rolled on the condom quickly. I then slicked on some lube and pushed myself in slowly. Patrick cried out and gripped the sheets tightly. I was a bit concerned at this.  
“You okay?” I asked, trying not to kill the mood.  
“Oh God, yes…holy shit…” he said. I pushed myself in a bit deeper and slowly lowered myself onto Patrick’s back so we were as close as we could be.  
“You can touch yourself,” I told Patrick. He nodded and slid his hand underneath his legs. I began to thrust, quickening my pace as I felt him loosen beneath me. I hit his prostate and he let out a huge moan. I gripped his hair with one hand and positioned my other hand on his hip.  
“Holy fucking shit Pete,” I heard him groan from beneath me.  
“Wait,” I said. 

I thrusted faster and faster until I felt myself breaking. I could tell Patrick was about to lose it too.  
“Pete…” he whined.  
“Okay,” I said. Less than a milli-second after that, he comed and I did too. I pulled out and sunk to my knees. I pulled the condom off and chucked it in some random direction. I pulled myself onto the bed to lie next to him. I reached my head over to gently nibble on his ear lobe. I saw him smile against the bed. He turned his head to kiss me.  
“Hey,” he said.  
“Hey,” I replied. I let my hand fall on his back and inched him closer to me. I pulled him in and he turned on his side so we could spoon (stereotypically, but I enjoyed it). I nestled my chin in between his head and shoulder and pressed kisses onto his neck.  
“We always end up back where we started, don’t we?” he said breathlessly. I smiled.  
“I guess,” I said.  
“I’m in love with a class A burnout,” he admitted.  
“A _classy_ burnout who has a fucking fantastic taste in music,” I corrected.  
“And who keeps his great music in cardboard boxes instead of proper cases or shelves,” he murmured. I flicked his ear.  
“They’re classy,” I defended. He laughed.  
“I love you,” he said. It was weird every time he said that. Not that it wasn’t welcomed or anything. It’s just weird whenever I hear anyone say they love me. I just never thought I was really capable of being loved. Just how I am. I mean, I still think I’m not. But, it’s still so bizarre to hear those words leave Patrick’s lips, even though I’ve heard them before in the past.  
“How?” I blurted out. I didn’t mean for it to happen, it just came out. He rolled onto his back and looked at me.  
“What do you mean ‘how?’ What kind of question is that?” he asked.  
“I…nothing. It’s nothing. I don’t know what that was,” I said quickly.  
“No, really. Come on. Don’t brush me off like that,” he pressed. Ugh, fuck. I didn’t want to get into this and have some stupid pity party for myself.  
“It’s just…it’s weird to hear people say they love me. Especially you. I guess I’m still stuck in teenage mode where hearing that just feels so foreign and unfamiliar. Like I’m not meant to be loved I don’t know, it’s dumb. Really, don’t worry about it, I’ve already said too much that sounds way too over-exaggerated,” I said. He looked a bit concerned.  
“How could someone who is capable of giving so much love out and having so much passion find it hard to be loved?” he asked.  
“I could say the same thing to you,” I replied. He closed his mouth. He knew it was true.  
“I guess I know what you mean. But really, that’s a stupid question, Pete. I don’t know why I love you when you’re, like, the worst. You’re super annoying, you’re most likely to have an affair with pizza and you keep music in cardboard boxes. Why do I love you? I don’t know. But I do. And I’m stupid about you,” he admitted. I smiled lightly. I ruffled his hair and watched him shut his eyes closed and make a face.  
“Love you Stumpy,” I said pressing a big kiss on his cheek. He wiped it off dramatically.  
“Why do I even bother?” he wondered.


	10. Chapter 10

After that, we ended up passing out. I have to admit, waking up in the middle of the night and seeing him lying by my side was comforting. I hadn’t had anyone to wake up next to me in a while and I had really missed him being there. It had been literal years. And yet, it felt like just yesterday. The way he slept was so peaceful. There are some people who are ugly sleepers. Their face is all smushed and pushed up against itself, other people sleep with their mouth open and snore. Not Patrick. He always lies on his side, curled up in a ball, with his hand lying next to his face. His face has this calm and restful expression on it. He looks so dainty and relaxed. Unlike me. I’m a mess when I sleep. I thrash all during the night and I sprawl out everywhere. Maybe that’s why we’re such good bed partners. He can fit into a quarter of the bed and I selfishly hog the remainder of it. Either way, it settled me to see him sleeping next to me as he had so many times in the past. When we were young and naive. 

The next morning, I woke up around 10. Patrick was still sleeping. Figures. He always sleeps so late in the day. Just how he is. I snuck out of bed, showered, and then went into the kitchen to grab some breakfast. I needed to make something light. I knew I didn’t want to push Patrick so soon after he’d relapsed but I needed to try it make it easier on him. Baby steps. I grabbed some yogurt, somewhat old granola, and frozen fruit to try and attempt to make parfait. My stupid gesture to try and impress him. Whatever. It ended up turning out…decently I think. I had to wait for the fruit to thaw out a bit but after that, it looked pretty good. I hoped it tasted just as nice. As I was putting the yogurt back in the fridge, Patrick walked out in boxers and my t-shirt, with his signature bedhead. My stomach was light when I saw the shirt. I’m sure I was smiling like an idiot.   
“Good morning,” I said cheerfully. Patrick smiled tiredly.   
“Morning,” he mumbled. I walked over to him and kissed him on the forehead.  
“I made us breakfast. Well, my sad attempt at it. So don’t judge if it’s shitty,” I said.  
“Damn, I was expecting Martha Stewart to make us some poached eggs and caviar. Well, guess I got dressed up for nothing,” he whined sarcastically. I rolled my eyes. He took his parfait dish and sat down on my couch. I grabbed mine as well and plopped down next to him. He took a spoonful of it and nodded when he tasted it.  
“Not bad. The fruit is a bit frozen but overall not bad. I give you a 7 for presentation and a 6 for taste,” he said.  
“Ouch. I should get at least an 8 for presentation. That looks like it came out of food magazine,” I stated.   
“I’ll bump it up to 7.5,” he bargained.  
“Someone’s stubborn,” I teased. He shrugged.  
“C’est la vie,” he said. As much as I hate to admit it, when he spoke French or any foreign language in general, it turned me on. I felt my stomach drop and my dick practically jump in my pants.   
“Talk dirty to me in French,” I said narrowing my eyes. He copied me.  
“You know, I would, but I don’t know enough to say anything,” he said chuckling. I snapped my fingers.  
“Damn. I guess it’s a good thing. No need to be getting all hot and sticky over breakfast,” I said. Patrick made a face.  
“Thanks for the image while I’m eating yogurt,” he said. I laughed.   
“Haha, sorry bout that,” I said. 

He continued eating his breakfast and I began poking at mine as well. Something had been stirring in my mind but I wasn’t sure how I was going to bring it up. It wandered out of my mouth anyway so there was no use dancing around it.  
“So…we should text the guys and get together with them for lunch to discuss…things,” I said. Patrick looked up from his dish.  
“You sure you want to do this?” he asked unsurely. I nodded slowly without confidence.  
“I think we need to. It’s for the best. Plus, it feels right. You know, us,” I said. He sat back and sighed.   
“Yeah, I agree. Okay. Well, do you want me to text him or…?” he asked.  
“No, I will. And I’m not telling him you’re here. I don’t need him getting all pissed about us writing stuff again before we even sit down to chat,” I noted.   
“Yeah…that sounds good,” he agreed. I took out my phone and sent a text to both Andy and Joe asking if they wanted to get lunch sometime in the next two days. Andy responded and said he was down for either.   
“Andy’s down,” I said.  
“I knew he would be,” Patrick said. I looked anxiously at my phone, awaiting Joe’s response. My phone buzzed and it was Joe.

_I can do today. Not tomorrow._

“He says today…” I said. Patrick looked at me with uncertainty.  
“We’re doing it. If we sit here staring at each other, it’s not gonna happen knowing us. Patrick smiled and looked down.  
“You have no idea how accurate that statement is,” he replied. I quickly typed back to Joe and Andy where we were going to meet. They confirmed our plans and said they’d meet us there.   
“No backing out now,” I said. Patrick breathed out.  
“Nope,” he said. We looked at each other silently. I shuffled my feet beneath the table and Patrick glanced out the window. I began to shake my leg.  
“Do you wanna go for a walk?” I blurted out. He looked over at me.  
“Yeah, that might be good,” he laughed. I stood up and went to change quickly. He followed my notion. 

We both then left my apartment and began to walk around my neighborhood. We passed by some abandoned buildings that were to be torn down that were covered in graffiti. I smiled nostalgically as we strolled by them. We then walked into a park and sat down underneath a tree. I lied down, breathing in and out the fresh air. Patrick closed his eyes behind his sunglasses and let his skin absorb the sun.  
“God, I’m gonna miss this as soon as I get back to Chicago. It’s like, 40 there at the moment,” he said. Right. Chicago. He was leaving in two days. I knew that. Okay.  
“Yeah we are lucky Los Angeles has such beautiful weather year round,” I said.   
“Yeah but I like seasons. I’m looking forward to snow. I feel like living out here all the time would get exhausting because you never really have any variation. Then again, it is nice to escape the polar vortexes that plague Chicago during the winter,” he explained.   
“I don’t know. I have a love/hate relationship with LA,” I said. He looked over at me.  
“Elaborate…” he said motioning with his hand.   
“It’s just…I don’t know. I like it here. It’s beautiful all the time, it’s one of the big places filled with opportunity and creativity, all my friends are here. It’s a vibrant city. What’s not to love? But, Chicago is where I grew up. It’s in my veins. It’s my roots. I got all my inspiration from that city and it’s where my family is. It’s just…it’s more of who I am. I can claim to be a Los Angelan all I want but in reality, I’m a Chicagoan,” I said.   
“I get you. I mean, that’s how I feel. For me though, I couldn’t let Chicago go. It’s where I want to be. It’s my home. No matter how far away I get from it, I always need to return someday,” he proclaimed.   
“I really wish I could do that. It’s convenient for me to be here. I can’t leave,” I murmured. He didn’t say anything. I rolled my head over to look at him.  
“I’m gonna miss you when you go back to Chicago,” I said.   
“You act like you’re never gonna see me again. I’ll be back,” he pointed out.   
“You sound like Frosty the Snowman,” I said. He laughed.  
“Except I won’t melt away nor be back on Christmas day,” he said. I smiled looking away. He stroked my forehead.  
“Pete…you know…I’ll always be back. I have to,” he promised.  
“I know. Sometimes, I just wish I could come back to Chicago with you. You have the best life back there. And, I don’t know, I just…sometimes I think that you’ll go back and find this perfect life and leave me here and forget about everything,” I said. I immediately regretted everything that had just come out of my mouth. He frowned.  
“That’s not true. My life’s not perfect,” he said.  
“No, but you’ll find it. And it’ll always be there. In Chicago. Your little utopia,” I said.   
“Pete…” he said putting his hand on my arm. I sat up to look at him.  
“You clearly don’t know me if you think I’m going to abandon you,” he said.   
“I mean…this band. What if it doesn’t go the way we want it? What if we crash and burn? Then what? You go back and revive your solo career and I go back to what? Absolutely fucking nothing,” I stated. He bit his lip.  
“We haven’t even discussed the band getting back together and you’re already worrying about failure,” he said. I looked away and sighed.   
“No, please, don’t shut me down,” he pleaded putting a hand on my shoulder to turn me back towards him. I looked back at him reluctantly.  
“Didn’t you once tell me that you’d be here for me despite whether we are in a band or not?” he questioned. I shrugged.  
“Yeah of course,” I said. He looked at me obviously.  
“Okay, well, that goes both ways. I’m always going to be here for you. No matter what. You’re not just some child I’m going to drop off on some doorstep. You’re my child. I gotta look out for you,” he said. I smirked.  
“I’m older than you,” I said grinning. He rolled his eyes.  
“Whatever, you know what I mean. Plus, I’m ten times more mature than you. That’s a fact,” he said.   
“The point is I’m not leaving. If the whole band thing doesn’t work, I’ll always be in touch and I’ll visit and be in LA as much as I can,” he finished. I looked down at my shoes.  
“What about…us…?” I mumbled. He scratched his head and exhaled.  
“I…I don’t know,” he replied. I looked up startled.  
“What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’?” I asked.   
“I don’t know. We need to work out all the workings of this band and what not. Plus, I don’t know, the whole long-distance relationship is somewhat tricky and everything. Not that I wouldn’t be willing to work at it or anything because I totally would. You know, the whole working thing. Right?” he asked. I blinked. He winced.  
“I’m sorry. That came out all jumbled and everything. In simpler terms, I’d be up for staying like this if you want to,” he offered.   
“I mean, I’d like that. But I don’t want to force you into anything,” I said trailing off.   
“Why would I be forced into anything? It’s my choice,” he asked.  
“I don’t want you to be some ‘safety blanket’,” I countered. He closed his eyes and breathed out sadly.  
“Okay. I deserved that. I’m sorry again about everything I said. I didn’t mean any of it. Maybe I didn’t believe you were being genuine in the past but I believe it now. I know it,” he said.   
“I just don’t want you to be stuck here with me if you don’t want to. You can have some great better life with a great girl or guy that’s 1000 times better than me. I’m so shitty at the relationship thing and just kind of an asshole in general,” I admitted.   
“We established that I suck at relationships too so that argument is invalid. Secondly, Pete Wentz how many times do I have to say it? I love you. I love _you_. You. Not someone else, you. Yes, I’m not even sure why my heart says ‘hey go for the guy who wears eyeliner and thinks it’s acceptable to dip french fries in mayonnaise’ but it did. So you need not worry on that whole aspect of things. And we’ve already come to the conclusion that our support system is strong and necessary for our sanity so,” he said. I smiled at this.   
“Okay. I might have needed you to tell me you love me one more time,” I said grinning. He sighs annoyedly and shoves me over. I pulled him into a tight hug.  
“You’re the literal worst, asshole,” he groaned beneath my chest.   
“I know. But you love me for it,” I said.   
“I wasn’t lying about anything I said. It _is_ nice to hear that you love me though so I will accept that whenever I can get it,” I said.   
“Yeah, I know you will,” he murmured. I pulled away and gave him a big goofy grin. He rolled his eyes and checked his phone.  
“What time did you say we were meeting Joe and Andy for lunch?” he asked.  
“12, why?” I asked.  
“Just curious. It’s 11:30 if you’re wondering. Where are we eating?” he asked. I shook my finger at him.  
“You’re gonna love this. It’s that old diner we ate at when we first came out here when the band first started,” I said. He looked surprised.  
“Wow, that is a throwback. Holy smokes, I haven’t been there in ages. They had killer sandwiches if I remember correctly. Hopefully the guys don’t take it as some weird reunion layout. You planned this purposefully, didn’t you?” he eyed me. I bit my lip and looked guilty. He sighed.  
“If there’s shit about this, I’m blaming you,” he stated.   
“Alright, alright, fine. It was suppose to be a nice reconnecting thing. If it blows up in my face, then I’m never trying to be nostalgic again,” I said.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, here's the next chapter. probably won't post another one till after the holiday so enjoy! it's a long one so hopefully it ties you over until after christmas :) merry christmas and happy holidays! :D

We hailed a cab and sat in the back waiting to arrive at the place. Patrick was fidgeting in his seat and he was picking at his nails nervously. He was shaking is leg and looking out the window mindlessly. I put my hand on his knee. He looked up abruptly, startled. I gave him a reassuring, calm smile.  
“You’re okay,” I said. I was trying myself to convince him that everything was gonna be okay, even though I didn’t know if it was going to be or not. I’m pretty sure I was trying to convince myself as well. He exhaled deeply and his eyes flicked out the window again. I was trying to occupy my mind with thoughts that didn’t have to do with this meeting. It was just Andy and Joe. Why am I getting all worked up? I shouldn’t be. This is stupid. I shouldn’t be, but I was. I don’t know. It’s just it feels like my whole music career is up to this moment. If we get back together, what will happen? Will people care? Will we be successful? Will things go back to the way they were and Joe and Andy will get upset? All these questions and I had no fucking clue about any of the answers to any of these questions. 

We arrived at the diner and Patrick and I stepped out of the cab. I stopped Patrick before he walked in the door.  
“Wait,” I said hesitantly. He looked at me.  
“What?” he asked.  
“I’m going to go in first. You walk in after me so it doesn’t look like we came in together,” I explained. He rolled his eyes dramatically.  
“And I think I’m over-reacting. Pete, that’s so dumb. It doesn’t matter if we walk in together. Let’s go,” he commanded. I sighed with defeat. Whatever. I guess I was being stupid. Nerves.

We walked in and Joe and Andy hadn’t shown up. We sat down. I began drumming my fingers on the table and shaking my leg simultaneously. Patrick was browsing the menu when he put his hand on my hand.  
“Now you need to calm down. The whole table is vibrating. There’s no use worrying about it. We’re here. We’re in a public place so it’s not like he can exactly start screaming,” he said. That’s a valid point. But people still do yell in public. I guess it just made it less appropriate and acceptable.  
“It’s just…Patrick…I need this. I can’t waste more time on something that doesn’t-“  
“Hey Andy,” Patrick interrupted. I looked behind me and Andy was walking in smiling. He walked over to Patrick and hugged him. I smiled and watched as they embraced.  
“It’s so good to see you dude,” Patrick said.  
“How was tour? I saw you when you came to LA and man, you were great,” he enthused. Patrick blushed.  
“Oh…thanks. It was awesome, I had so much fun,” he said. Patrick’s attention turned to behind me. I turned around and saw Joe walking in. Shit. My stomach dropped. He walked over and smiled vaguely at us.  
“Hey Joe,” Patrick said pulling him in for a quick hug. Patrick was much better at breaking the ice than I was. I gave Joe an awkward head shake and a hello. He returned the gesture by waving. We all sat down and began conversing immediately. Mostly about Patrick’s tour. Andy was teasing him about his dancing skills on stage. Patrick was claiming that he was a shitty dancer and those were basically him being over-confident in his skills. Andy defended that they were some sick-ass moves.  
“Patrick, I’m telling you, no one else here can pull those moves like you can. They were so fucking dank. Even I wanted to get up there and go crazy like you,” Andy said. Patrick giggled a bit.  
“Thanks Andy but I’m telling you that was me thinking I can dance,” he said.  
“Whatever, dude. Go on Dancing With the Stars, win, and then come back to me,” he said. Patrick smiled.  
“Anyway, how’s your guys band doing?” he asked. Andy looked at Joe and they both nodded affirmatively.  
“Good. We’ve done some small shows here and there. People seem to be enjoying the album somewhat. We’re also working on some other tracks. Potential EP,” Joe said. Patrick and I both nodded.  
“That’s great. I was hoping I could see you guys when I had time but I was so busy with the tour I just didn't have the opportunity,” Patrick said.  
“I got you. Yeah, this year has been crazy,” Andy said.  
“So Pete, what about you? I saw you guys perform and it was good” Joe asked. I rolled my eyes so hard inside.  
“Um yeah, thanks. We’ve been writing a lot. We’ve got a couple of potential songs for an EP but nothing is solidified. Obviously…” I trailed off.  
“Bebe’s got a great voice,” Patrick noted.  
“She does,” Joe said. I smiled.  
“I’ll be sure to tell her. I’m sure she’ll ask who's lying and then appreciate it,” I said. 

At that moment, the waitress came over and took our orders. We quickly told her what we wanted and then began catching up. This was surprisingly not as horrible as I had thought it was going to be. Granted, we hadn’t started talk about the band yet.  
“So, Joe, you excited for the big day?” I teased.  
  “Oh god yes. I love Marie so much. Wow, I just. I can’t wait,” he said in fragments. He was smiling the whole time he spoke.  
“Congratulations, Trohman. We’re all happy for you,” Andy said.  
“Thanks guys. Means a lot,” he said.  
“Someone found the jewfro attractive,” I joked.  
“Told you it was a total chick magnet,” he said laughing. We all laughed. The flow of the conversation was becoming more and more natural. I was loosening up and trying not to acknowledge the elephant in the room.  
“You were always right. I’m glad she’s the one,” I said. He smiled.  
“I hear Patrick’s got a girl. Holy shit, the dawns have opened up. Bring this man a beer,” Joe almost shouted. Patrick turned bright red and I practically covered my face.  
“Oh yeah…well had a girl. We were taking a break while I was on tour,” he said. My stomach began to twinge.  
“What’s her name?” Andy asked.  
“Elisa,” he said.  
“Pretty name. What’s she do?” Joe asked.  
“She’s an engineer. She’s really smart and beautiful,” he said. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. Whether it was jealousy, anger, or sadness. Whatever it was, it was making me sick.  
“Well, let us know what happens with her. I’d love to meet her if she’s gonna be future Mrs. Stump,” Joe teased. Patrick avoided all eye contact with me.  
“Well, I’ll be sure to notify you,” he said quietly. Joe looked over at me and furrowed his brows.  
“What’s got you, Wentz?” he asked. I straightened up immediately. I’m sure I was looking as morose as I always do.  
“Nothing,” I said quickly. Joe made a face at me but didn’t push me any farther.  
“Have you been enjoying single life?” Andy asked. I shrugged. If we were going to be a lie, I was going to make it convincing.  
“I mean it’s okay. I miss having someone there for me. But it’s nice not being tied down to someone, you know?” I said a little too directed at Patrick. Patrick didn’t look at me. Andy looked somewhat confused.  
“Yeah I guess. Well, you can focus on you or whatever other shit people do when they’re single. Like me,” he said. I tried my best to form a smile but I’m sure it came off as some painful grimace. It was hard to focus when my brain was not totally in my body.

We got our food and Patrick decided to bring up the topic. As we began to eat, Patrick set down his sandwich and shifted in his chair a bit.  
“So, I don’t know any other way to say this so I’m just going to come out and say it. I was wondering what our plans were with the band. And if we had any future plans of getting back together,” he asked. Joe paused from eating and Andy looked at Patrick. Patrick looked at me nervously for help. I was somewhat pissed off at him but I wasn’t going to let that get in the way of this discussion.  
“Patrick and I had been talking about it for a while and we wanted to know your guys opinions on the issue,” I rephrased. Andy bit his lip and Joe sat back in chair sighing a bit. He put his hand over his mouth and seemed to be searching for what he wanted to say.  
“I’ve been thinking about it as well. I’d be up for working on stuff again,” Andy said quietly as if not to push Joe over the edge. Joe hadn’t stopped staring off into space. We looked at him expectantly and he finally rubbed his hands together and began to talk.  
“I…I agree that I have thought about the band getting back together. I miss that sort of dynamic we had. But, if this happens, stuff has to change,” he said firmly. Patrick looked down at his plate. We both knew what was coming.  
“Such as?” I asked. I knew I was pushing his buttons but Joe had barely communicated with me in the past couple of months. I was pissed off at him so I was going to play the oblivious game. He knew what I was doing regardless and furrowed his brows. He was going to be mature about it since we were in a public place but I could tell he was mad.  
“Well to start, I think Andy and I should be apart of the whole writing process. We were not as involved as I would have liked us to be and I think it should be all of us writing if it’s our band,” he explained. Patrick nodded.  
“I agree. I want to hear your guys opinions. I think we meld better together that way,” he said. Push over.  
“I also think we should be free to do other sounds. While Folie was a bit of that, I don’t think that was our sound. But I don’t think we should put the same record out over and over again. It gets a bit monotonous and we should be free to express and shit,” he said. As much as I wanted to be mad at him, I had to agree. I reluctantly nodded.  
“To jump in here, I just think we need to be more solid and united on decisions. You know, making sure we’re all happy with what’s going on,” Andy summed up.  
“I think you are both right and have good points. I’m more than willing to do that,” Patrick said. They all looked at me.  
“Yeah, I’m down,” I said.  
“You seem convinced,” Joe said sarcastically. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I inhaled sharply.  
“Look, I’m more than happy to change. The way things were going during Folie weren’t healthy and we needed to reevaluate our approach. But, I didn’t see you ever expressing this in the past. It would come out when you were fucking pissed off at us, never other points,” I said.  
“It’s kinda hard to squeeze in ideas when you and Stump are attached at the hip and basically only listen to each other,” he claimed. Patrick seemed to be shrinking in his seat. Andy sat back and wasn’t getting involved.  
“I know it wasn’t fair okay? I don’t need to keep getting antagonized for the dynamic of the group,” I stated trying to keep my voice down. I could tell people were starting to stare.  
“I just, I don’t know. I don’t want to get back together and have it go back to being the same way. It’s not right. I can’t be creatively inclined when we’re shoved to the back row,” Joe said.  
“If we promise to change and reorganize everything, will you let this go?” I complained. Joe was silent for a moment.  
“I…I think I need to think about this. We shouldn’t be making a decision within an hour lunch period,” he said. Great. Outlook does not look good. Patrick looked deflated and somewhat annoyed with me.  
“This is true. I think we should think about it. It was just a thought we had had. I’m flying back to Chicago in two days so we can talk about it soon when I’m back in LA or when we’re all back in Chicago,” Patrick suggested. Joe was giving me a death glare.  
“That sounds good,” he said, his eyes not leaving mine.  
“Well we’ll be in Chicago in a couple weeks so maybe then,” Andy said trying to break the obvious tension.  
“Looking forward to it,” I said tersely. 

Lunch ended soon after that. Joe left claiming he had a meeting with their manager. Andy decided to follow him out. Probably to try to calm him down. After they had left, Patrick and I paid and left. As soon as we had gotten out of the restaurant, Patrick let me have it.  
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he yelled. I looked at him.  
“What?” I asked. He rolled his eyes and exhaled loudly.  
“You know better than to push Joe’s buttons. You managed to fuck up any near plans of the band getting back together because you decided to be petty,” he shouted.  
“I’m sorry I was reacting like a human being. You know, we have feelings. Joe doesn’t hasn’t spoken to me in who knows how long and then decides to waltz into lunch and pretend that he wasn’t an ass these couple past months? Then decides to play the blame game and act like an immature child,” I defended. Patrick furrowed his face and stared at me with his mouth open in utter annoyance.  
“ _You_ we an immature child. You decide to bring up all that up now over lunch when all we were trying to do is catch up and mention the idea of us getting back together so that it was a possibility,” he accused. I clenched my hands into fists. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.  
“If we’re going to talk about immature children here, how come you couldn’t be an adult and tell them the truth about us? What you’re embarrassed of me now?” I yelled. Patrick looked insulted by this.  
“Okay, I’m sorry I didn’t want to casually slip that into conversation. ‘Hey guys. Before we get started, just would like to inform you that Pete and I are fucking. Kay?’” he snarled.  
“You still didn’t have to say all that stuff about your girlfriend,” I grumbled. He laughed sarcastically.  
“Oh my God I can’t believe this. Pete Wentz is actually jealous. For fucks sake, the world is ending,” he announced. I punched him in the arm.  
“Because of course everything again has to be about you. It _always_ has to be about you,” he pointed out. I bit the inside of my cheek. I was hoping if I sunk my teeth into it hard enough, I would stop talking. Because every word that spilled out of my mouth was poison and kept digging my grave with everyone.  
“I’m sorry I don’t appreciate hearing about past people who you’ve slept with,” I said.  
“And I do?” he asked. I opened my mouth but nothing came out. He’d won again.  
“That’s what I thought,” he said. I immediately regretted any time in the past I had ever mentioned anyone who I’d hooked up with or anything along those lines.  
“I get to be happy, Pete. Whether that’s with you or not, I get to be happy for once in my fucking life,” he said before walking away. I didn’t stop him or anything. I couldn’t. I didn’t know what I would say. I was sorry about everything. My brain, like any other stressful time, had gone into autopilot and had started firing out things meant to hurt even though I wasn’t aiming to do that. It didn’t feel so warm in Los Angeles anymore.


	12. Chapter 12

I sauntered back to my apartment. It was all the way across town and took me 45 minutes to get there but I eventually did. I didn’t have the motivation to wave down a cab. I was angry at the world again, like I had been so many times in the past. I was pissed at myself, at Patrick, at Joe, at everybody. I knew Patrick was right but it was so much easier to be mad at him and blame him for something rather than focus on my problems. 

When I got home, I walked in and threw my keys in some random direction before falling onto my couch. I wanted to get pulled into the floor boards and never come out. Why can’t my brain and mouth communicate like they should? Instead, I end up getting myself into shit I can’t get myself out of. I suppose that’s life though.

Eventually, while I was over-analyzing everything, I took a brief nap. My mind wandered into places that I didn’t want it to be. Those places including vivid sex dreams between Patrick and I. Mostly because this meant when I woke up I had to jerk off. And I really wasn’t in the mood but had to anyway. I was a mess. Whatever, he’ll go back to Chicago in two days and I won’t see him for a month or so. I’ll try to get back to this band and scavenge whatever life I have left and he’ll try to salvage his dignity with this solo career and everything will probably turn out shitty. But that’s okay. It’s life.

That night I slept roughly. I didn’t actually sleep much. I just kept repeating that stupid argument Patrick and I had had after lunch. I also kept thinking about Joe’s reluctancy to reform the band when I brought it up. How long can the man hold onto a fucking grudge for? Apparently forever. 

I decided I was going to apologize to Patrick before he went back to Chicago. I wanted to keep this. He was the only thing that was keeping me from completely losing my sanity. I know I sound so fucking desperate but it’s true. I guess I have to have a rock by my side at all times. A constant. Whether it’s a friend, spouse, girl/boyfriend whatever. And I didn’t really have that after Ash left. I know I shouldn’t be so self-reliant on someone because of whatever but I am unfortunately. It obviously leads to problems as one can see.

What was I going to say? Should we keep this up? Should we not? I knew what I wanted to do and he had told me he was up for it but I didn’t believe that. He sounded hesitant. I had known from past experience that he doesn’t believe in long distance relationships and he wasn’t going to change now. Besides, I’m sure he could find some better girl or guy back off in Chicago where he spends 99 percent of his time anyway. I needed to tell him regardless. I was going to tell him.

The next day I texted him that I wanted to see him.

_Can you meet up?_

I sat there waiting expectantly for the phone to buzz.

_Only for a while. My flight got switched to tonight so it has to be brief. I have to pack and shit._

Come on Patrick. How the fuck does a flight just get switched? Now I have even less time. I was panicking and I wasn’t sure why.

_Okay. Just come by the apartment later when you have a second._

What should I do? What could I do?

_Okay._

Shit, shit, shit. Okay, I needed to calm down. I grabbed a cup of water and drank it as fast as I could to try and shift my attention away from my choking throat. This was the second time where my vision was blurry and my heart was racing. I felt like I was having a heart attack. Why the sudden burst of anxiety? It’s just Patrick. God, what’s wrong with me?

About 30 minutes later, I heard a knock on the door. My stomach jumped. I grabbed my left wrist with my hand and applied pressure to it. I was hoping it’d calm me down. I’d read somewhere that it was suppose to. It didn’t seem to be helping. I inhaled and opened the door. Patrick turned around and looked at me through his hipster frames.  
“Hello,” I said awkwardly.  
“Hey,” he said. I turned sideways to let him in. He stepped in slowly, hands in his tight jeans’ pockets. He looked around as if to expect new decorating or something.  
“So…” he said quietly. I cracked my knuckles and exhaled.  
“I needed to talk to you,” I said. He looked at me blatantly.  
“Obviously, I kinda got that,” he said. My mind and heart were racing. I really didn’t want to jumble my thoughts or words because I had spent hours planning and thinking them out. I didn’t need an unexpected malfunction to occur and have something I didn’t mean to slip out and fuck everything up.  
“Sit down,” I said. He looked at me nervously. I sat next to him on the couch and took his hands gently. He sighed sadly.  
“I…I need this,” I finally said. He looked up at me.  
“Us. You and me. I…It’s been so hard these past couple months without your guys support or any support really. It’s also been especially hard this year, year and a half without having you by my side. I know back when the band was still together we weren’t always pleasant or happy with each other but I always knew you had my back. I could come to you for anything and you’d be there to help me or listen to me. And since then, I just feel like I can’t function fully. It’s like a part is missing. And I know how cliche that sounds and whatever you can give me shit about that later but I just…I can’t have you going back to Chicago and leaving me here. I can’t be alone. Not again,” I said softly. Patrick looked like he was on the verge of tears. I swallowed and felt my face getting warm. I had only felt this vulnerable a few times in my life and every time I hated it. Ironically, most of them had ended up being with Patrick and it never got any easier to let myself be seen.

Patrick’s breath was hitched and he clasped a hand over his face. He closed his eyes and exhaled.  
“I wish it could be as easy as you say it would,” he whispered.  
“Can’t it be?” I asked. He shook his head. I felt like this huge weight had been placed on my chest and I couldn’t breathe.  
“Why?” I asked, my breath hitched. He was struggling to put words together.  
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. You know…you and me,” he finally said almost breaking. His voice was wavering. My heart burst and I felt my eyes start to sting. The tears formed in the corners of my eyes. I fought to keep them back. I didn’t want him to see me like this. I’d already revealed too much to him.  
“If the band were to get back together, we’re a safety hazard. I don’t think we’d be able to fully immerse ourselves into our creativity and if we were going to get back into the spotlight, it’s a lot to put out there. Not that I wouldn’t be willing to make a big announcement like this but I don’t think we need this. Not right now. It’d be too hard to focus and you know, band dynamic and everything,” he tried to explain. I let go of his hand. I couldn’t even look at him I was too upset. I bit my lip so hard I eventually tasted blood. Even that wasn’t enough to keep my voice from wavering when I spoke.  
“That band dynamic stuff is bullshit and you know it,” I said gritting my teeth. I wasn’t looking at him, but I could tell he was about to give a rebuttal but then deflated when he knew I was right.  
“It’s…it’s just not right, Pete. Not right now,” he said. I covered my mouth. Sobs were being caught in my throat. He put a hand on my shoulder and I jolted away. I rubbed my eyes to try and rid myself of the tears. I felt like I had been dropped in the middle of a storm and told to fend for myself and figure everything else. I might as well have been. I was just as hopeless.  
“Don’t you even care?” I said stuttering quietly.  
“Of course I do. And that’s why it’s so fucking hard for me to do this.” He was crying now as well. I knew he was trying to be strong but it wasn’t working.  
“You know we can’t put ourselves back into this band if we’re together with Joe like this. We need to show him we can change how the band functions,” he justified. I knew he was right. But it still fucking hurt. My cheeks were hot and the tears stung my eyes as they poured down. I had been clenching my hands into fists so hard that my palms had begun to scream and bleed.  
“I’ll still be there for you no matter what. Anytime. And after we get everything all settled, I promise we can do this full throttle if you still want to. If you don’t hate me then…” he said, his voice becoming more steady. I sniffed and nodded my head. Pull yourself together.  
“Yeah,” was all I said. I blinked back the remaining tears in my eyes.  
“Look at me,” he said turning my shoulder towards him. My eyes slowly made their way to Patrick’s. His eyes were red. Both of us with sore eyes. Broken.  
“Please tell me you understand. I have no idea why I’m fucking doing this,” he said. I didn’t say anything. I looked down at my feet.  
“Pete please…I need you to tell me you understand and agree with me. I can’t convince myself otherwise that this is the right thing,” he begged.  
“I can’t do that,” I said quietly. He closed his eyes and tried to fight back the feelings.  
“I’m so sorry,” he said crying. I shook my head, refusing to let anymore tears spill their way out of me. He gripped my shoulder tightly. His head hung down slightly. He wouldn’t let me see him broken, like I had so many times. I’m not sure why this was different. He was trying to reason with himself. I couldn’t blame him. I was a safety hazard. He was right. I don’t know why I doubted him.  
“You’re right,” I finally said. He looked up at me. I knew I was going to be cold, but I needed to shut myself off from the emotions. When I could feel is when I felt like I was drowning.  
“Am I?” he asked desperately. I nodded slightly.  
“Yeah,” I tried to sound confident. He looked confused but he wasn’t questioning it. He wiped his nose and eyes and nodded trying to affirm himself.  
“Yeah, okay,” he said straightening up. I sighed. He looked at his watch.  
“I should probably get going. My flight leaves soon,” he said. My eyes flicked away. My heart was crying but I couldn’t. Not while he was still here. He looked away from me.  
“So, I’ll call you from Chicago,” he said. I didn’t respond. I finally nodded to look like I had heard him.  
“Okay. Bye, Pete,” he said awkwardly, sadness still tinging his voice.  
“Bye, ‘Trick,” I said. He stopped while he was walking to the doorway. I knew he fighting back whatever he wanted to do. He finally resumed walking after thirty seconds and opened the door. He didn’t hesitate before leaving. He didn’t turn around to say goodbye or run into my arms or pull me into some stupidly blissful kiss. Nothing. I shouldn’t have expected him to. Life doesn’t happen like it does in the movies.

Life gives us wake up calls. We can choose to listen to them or ignore them. We can never choose if we want them or when we want them. They just come and go. Like people in and out of our lives. We have to trust ourselves to fall into them. To follow them and hope the right decision or end is coming. Of course I wished that I didn’t need them. Some people walk through their whole life not needing any. They get everything on a silver platter. As much as I like to make fun of those people, I envy them like hell. They don’t need to think for anything. They don’t need to make hard decisions. They don’t experience pain. Or heartbreak. Or being shattered. They’ll never see rock bottom. They’ll never need to pick the pieces and themselves up from the nuclear explosion that just blew them down there. Never. The other 99 percent of us will. And we’ll do it again and again because we have no other choice. Set in some eternal routine of cycles. An endless array of emotions and experiences because we can’t cherry pick what we want. Life’s a bunch of bullshit, and yet we’re here. Hello, welcome to life; what will you be having?


End file.
